


Goodnight, Sleep Well

by verger_de_pommiers



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Domestic Fluff, Eventual kissing, First Kiss, Future Fic, M/M, Merlin has a cat called Bunty, Mystery, Nosy Neighbours, Original Character(s), Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, and chickens, and turnips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verger_de_pommiers/pseuds/verger_de_pommiers
Summary: Merlin had heard on the radio that a storm was coming.---Or, it's been well over a millennia. Merlin has a cottage, a garden, and nosy neighbours who call him grumpy. Then a knight walks out of the river.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 98
Kudos: 289





	1. He Awakes!

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing Merlin fanfiction in the year 2020? Latching onto a new hyperfixation to banish pandemic anxiety? That's right!

He returned on a Tuesday in the early hours of the morning, still dark. The chickens in the garden were fluffing their wings up against the cool breeze. Leaves from the turnips Merlin had so carefully planted bent across the bumpy soil.

Merlin had heard on the radio that a storm was coming. Advice was to lock up and stay indoors, but the chickens had been in their hutch for days now due to the torrential rain and they were getting snippy. After getting a peck on the thumb, Merlin had let them out for the night.

At quarter to six, he woke up sweaty. Through the window, he saw swaying trees rushing past an aegean sky. Without thought, he slipped out of bed and padded to the window. The hairs on his skin stood on end, prickly. The glass was cold against his fingertips.

Suddenly, a flash of white sent him skittering back. A thunderclap followed. The wind howled. Then another flash and the belly of the clouds glittered, like the lightening had been smashed into a thousand pieces. And there was something else too, another sound, like someone screaming.

Merlin skidded across the floorboards and flung his cupboard door open, grabbing at the first piece of linen he found. He shoved on a shirt and grabbed a pair of trousers he had left in a pile on the chair. Almost tripping onto his face, he scrabbled at the doorway and hurled himself down the stairs. Splat, right into the opposite wall. He stopped for breath and then barrelled down the hall and out through the front door. The chickens squawked at him as he crossed the path and left the gate flapping on its hinges.

-

A curtain of mist covered the island. The river had flooded the banks and Merlin found himself ankle-deep in icy water. Air froze in his lungs. Panicked, he cast a wordless clearing spell but the land remained woolly white. He reached a hand out, trying again.

‘ _Asceadan_.’

The mist seemed to lessen, but only slightly. He dropped his hand. Then, silently, a boat appeared. Water lapped against it, bringing it forth. When it reached him, pushing at his knees where he had waded into the river, he looked down and felt like he had been hit by a train. The boat was empty. He clasped the wood. Sounds escaped him. His eyes darted to the tower. Rocks were cascading downwards. The lightening must have struck it. He waded further in, then stopped to listen. There it was again, the sound of sloshing. The bank was empty. The island was empty. Birds twittered in the trees. The sun was coming up.

His feet carried him back to the bank, mud splattering his legs. Breathing was becoming difficult.

‘Okay…okay,’ he said and closed his eyes. Then that sound again, sloshing, and footsteps. He tore his hands away from his face. The mist covered the land, encircling the trees. But he was sure - he squinted - there was somebody moving up ahead. Their dark figure was heading up the path into the village. Merlin knew, he knew from the shape of the shoulders, from the sound of the steps, he knew who it was, but he dare not think it. Silently he followed.

When they reached the village, the figure stopped. Merlin watched him take in the houses, the telephone poles, the parked cars on the tarmac streets.

A door opened and out came Mrs Mowberry. She was in the Neighbourhood Watch and Merlin always saw her out early. To nose about, Mr Ahad at the farm always said. When she saw the figure she hastened her step and parked herself in front of him.

‘Goodness me young man, you’re soaking wet!’

He was tall and dripped cold droplets all over her. Merlin ran towards them and reached out. His fingers grasped wet chainmail.

‘Oh hello Merlin love,’ Mrs Mowberry said.

But Merlin could not speak, for Arthur’s eyes were upon him.

‘Is he a re-enactor?’ asked Mrs Mowberry. ‘Bit early to be kitted out already isn’t it.’

‘Arthur.’

‘Aweosung ic biennan swefn,’ he whispered.

Merlin felt tears slip from his eyes. He shook his head.

‘No. No Arthur. This isn’t a dream.’

Warm winds rushed through the leaves, surrounding them.

‘Merlin,’ said Mrs Mowberry. ‘Is everything alright?’

Merlin nodded quickly.

‘Thank you Mrs Mowberry,’ he said, then ‘Arthur, befylgan mec.’ _Follow me_.

He let his hand slip down Arthur’s arm to clasp his hand. Slowly Arthur nodded. His face was all confusion. Water dripped from his eyelashes. As Merlin led them up the street, he thought of spelling Arthur’s clothes dry but knew that Mrs Mowberry would be watching: she will want to make a full report to the Watch. Merlin hurried them on.

They neared the trees once more, but Merlin decided to take them around the forest this time; he did not want to get too close to the river.

‘Not far now,’ he said. Somewhere in the distance a tractor moaned. He glanced at Arthur to see if he had noticed it, but Arthur was staring dazedly ahead. His hand was icy cold in Merlin’s.

‘Here it is,’ Merlin said finally. Suddenly, he was looking at his cottage from someone else’s point of view. He had not had guests here, not ever. It was small and in need of some work. The wood in the front door was chipped and the lines of vegetables could be neatened out. There was a hole in the roof that leaked into the kitchen when it rained, and one of the windows on the upper floor didn’t close properly. It was swinging open right now.

Well, Merlin supposed Arthur would not even recognise the window for a window, the glass being completely see-through.

‘Where…where are we?’

‘Your safe here,’ was all Merlin could say, for now at least. ‘Come, I’ll find you something dry to wear.’

He led him up the narrow path, passed the chickens and the turnips, and through the front door. Stopping to kick his shoes off, he watched as Arthur’s eyes took in the hallway. There wasn’t much unusual about it, except for Merlin’s trainers.

Bunty, Merlin’s tabby cat, was peering round the kitchen doorway, watching.

‘I don’t…I don’t feel very well,’ Arthur whispered, and with that, he clattered to the floor. Merlin dropped to his knees.

‘Arthur! Arthur!’

He touched Arthur’s forehead. It was sweaty and hot. Forcing himself not to panic, Merlin picked up Arthur’s arm and dragged him, doormat and all, to the living room.

‘Okay…okay…’

Breath was rocketing out of him. He leaped to the kitchen and returned with a water-soaked cloth, pressing it gently to Arthur’s skin. Then he worked on getting Arthur out of his sodden armour. Once he was free of it, he grabbed a pillow from the sofa and propped up Arthur’s head. His look was too much like the look on that day, the day Merlin had put him in the boat. He closed his eyes, searching for a spell, but none came. Instead he reached out for the magic in the air, in the water soaking Arthur’s hair, in the wind. It was very small. Merlin grabbed onto it and brought it into himself. Why this was so strenuous all of a sudden, when just the other day he had effortlessly stopped a car from running over Georgie Bennet, he did not know. He filed it away to worry about later. For now, Arthur Pendragon was in his living room.

‘ _Oflystan_ ,’ he said. when wordless magic did not work. He would have to ask, and ask nicely.

Soon, Merlin felt Arthur’s skin cool down and his breathing even out. His eyes fluttered open, woozily.

‘Arthur, here,’ he said, holding out his arm. ‘You need to rest.’

Arthur allowed himself to be taken up the stairs to Merlin’s bedroom. Merlin pulled back the duvet and pushed at Arthur’s shoulders. This he allowed too, and, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.

Bunty chirruped at the door.

‘Hello Bunty,’ Merlin whispered. He bent down and picked her up, scratching behind her ears. ‘This is Arthur.’


	2. All Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets a toaster. Merlin gets harassed by busy-bodies.

After a long time, Merlin tore his eyes away from Arthur’s sleeping face. He padded downstairs and let Bunty out into the garden, then returned to the living room to find a cupboard to store Arthur's armour. Gently, he reached down to find a place for Arthur’s cloak as well. His fingers grazed the material. This sort of cloth did not really exist anymore. It was coarse against his skin. How had it survived. Whole worlds change in fifteen hundred years, in twenty even. But not this cloak.

Arthur’s cloak.

Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, he quickly put it with the armour and turned the latch in the cupboard door.

His kitchen was a bit of a mess. Hastily, he put pots and pans away and loaded everything into the sink before turning the tap. He would have to stock up on food. He didn’t want Arthur waking up to find there was nothing to eat, and he would surely be hungry.

When the dishes were done, he pulled his coat and shoes on. Glancing up at the ceiling, he almost stopped. He did not want Arthur to wake up alone. Before he could think too much about it, he tore off a scrap from one of the many unopened envelopes near his door and wrote:

_Sitp be began_

Wait. What was the word for food again. And had he said that he was travelling or that he was gone? It had been so long since he had spoken the old language.

_Andleofa_

Food. That was it.

He scribbled it onto the page, left it on the kitchen table, and then grabbed his keys and pushed the door to as quietly as he could.

Outside a faint drizzle hung in the air, coating his hair and clothes. The street ahead was a wash of blue. When he reached the village, it was already awake and Mr Bennet’s shop was full of people. Normally Merlin would wait till it had cleared, but he was in a hurry. The bell chimed as he stepped inside and Georgie Bennet jumped off the stool behind the counter.

‘Mr Merlin,’ he said. Beneath his red hair and redder freckles, a dark pink blush bloomed across the boy’s face. ‘Thanks so much again for the other day.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said quickly and turned for one of the aisles but was stopped by a booming voice.

‘Merlin!’ barked Mr Bennet. ‘You ran off so quick we didn’t get to thank you for-’

‘I didn’t really do anything.’

‘Nonsense lad. Come round to tea this week. I insist.’

He nodded quickly in an attempt to get away and hid himself in the bread aisle.

‘No use,’ he heard a female voice say. ‘He won’t come you know.’

Sighing, Merlin picked up a loaf and went off in search of meat.

‘Oh Merlin! Just the person I wanted to see!’ It was Mrs Lahiri. She owned a stall on the market where she sold her wooden creations. Wood shavings littered her long grey hair.

‘Mister Calahan said that Mrs Mowberry called at the pet shop to get a new filter for her fish tank.’

‘Hm,’ he grumbled and turned his attention to the fridge. What would Arthur think of ice-cream, he wondered.

‘And he said that she said that there was a strange man wondering around her street and that he went off with you.’

‘What was that?’

They both turned round to find Miss Clement adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses.

‘Did you say a strange man? Because I heard the same thing from Sam Bishop. He said the man had dripped all over the pavement in front of his house. He had to douse the whole thing so it didn’t stand out.’

‘Who is he Merlin?’ asked Mrs Lahiri.

Merlin turned on his heel, grabbing a pint of milk and a pack of sausages. The women stepped back as he opened the fridge door and picked up a box of cornettos as well.

On his way to the counter he topped up his pile with some other things for supper and plonked it down in front of Mr Bennet. The television in the background was buzzing in and out.

‘Signal’s warped from the storm,’ said Mr Bennet. ‘Did you see it?’

He nodded.

When the signal whirred into focus, a news reporter was talking about a missing person case.

‘Merlin?’

He jumped.

‘What?’

Mr Bennet glanced at the television.

‘Queenie Miller,’ he said. ‘A girl not far from here. She vanished three days ago. Not a trace.’ Then he reached over the counter and passed him a brown paper bag now full of his shopping.

Merlin nodded his thanks and left, but not before he caught Mrs Clement whispering ‘There he goes, Mister Grumpy.’

When he returned, he found Arthur standing in the garden.

‘Are…are you alright?’

‘I was sick,’ Arthur said. The skin under his eyes looked dark.

‘Oh.’

‘There was nothing to…’

‘Oh that’s alright. Easily cleaned.’

‘With magic,’ Arthur said.

‘Yes,’ Merlin nodded. ‘Yes with magic.’

‘Is that what all this is? Magic?’

‘No Arthur.’

‘I don’t understand this place.’ His voice was weak.

‘Let’s go inside.’

He balanced his shopping against his chest and reached out a hand, gently pressing it to Arthur’s shoulder and guiding him back up the path. The wind chimes that hung above the front door knocked together as they passed beneath them.

Merlin put the paper bag on the sideboard in the kitchen before shoving the ice-cream into the freezer.

‘Here, um, sit there and I’ll just-’ He pointed Arthur to the little table and one of the chairs and then left for the stairs. When he returned from cleaning up, Arthur was bent over the sideboard and staring inquisitively at the toaster.

‘Arthur?’

Arthur straightened at his voice. Merlin went to the paper bag and dug out the loaf.

‘Um, I can…show you how it works.’

He took out two slices and popped them in, pressing the lever down. Together they stared at the toaster. Then Pop! Arthur jumped backwards and raised his fist. Merlin could not help the chuckle that burst out of him.

‘It’s just toast, look.’

He took down a plate from the cupboard and stealthily plucked the toast from the toaster, hissing when his skin sizzled. Arthur drew nearer and bent down to have a look.

‘It’s…cooked.’

He was very close. Merlin could smell the river on him.

‘How does it work?’

‘Um well.’ Merlin had to think about that. ‘There are these little metal things inside that heat up.’

‘How do they heat up?’

‘Electri….’ He couldn’t think of a word in the old language that would suit it. ‘It’s called Electricity.’

Arthur frowned.

‘Electricity,’ he whispered. Then louder. ‘Electricity.’ He had waited, Merlin realised, till he was sure he would get it right. ‘It is an invention?’ Arthur continued. ‘Who invented it?’

‘Uh…I’m not sure exactly. Franklin? Or was it Tesla…it was a really long time ago. I think.’

Arthur looked at him then.

‘They told me that I had been asleep for many years, that many ages had been and gone, lost to time, and that all I ever knew is dead.’

‘Who told you that?’

Their voices were loud in the quiet of the room. Arthur’s blue eyes seemed to pin him to the spot. Those eyes. A sudden swooping feeling came over him, burrowing into his bones. Tears burned behind his eyes. He almost thought, just then, that Arthur was right, that this was a dream. How else could he be looking at those eyes again, after all these long years.

‘The island.’

Merlin nodded.

‘Did it tell you why you awoke?’

All the blood seemed to drain from Arthur’s face. He shook his head, his eyes suddenly unfocused.

‘Come, sit. I’ll make you some food.’

‘And yourself,’ Arthur said, though he sounded as if his thoughts were somewhere else. ‘You look like a stiff breeze could knock you flat.’

Merlin ended up making them both sausage sandwiches and cups of tea. Arthur stared into his cup, grimacing.

‘What…is this.’

‘It’s tea.’

‘Tea?’

‘You’ll like it, go on.’

Arthur took a sip. His eyes widened.

‘It’s hot.’

He took another sip. A flicking sound drew his attention to the side door. Bunty had come through the flap and was batting at a toy mouse with her paws. She seemed to sense that eyes were on her, for she padded over to Arthur and pressed her forehead against his leg.

Outside, the wind had picked up.

-

When night fell, Merlin took Arthur to the spare bedroom.

‘Here, clothes to sleep in.’

Arthur took them silently.

‘If you need anything, just wake me.’

‘They are all gone.’

‘What?’

‘Everyone is gone, aren’t they.’

Light from the bulb flickered across Arthur’s face.

‘Yes,’ Merlin whispered.

Arthur nodded and turned away. After a moment, Merlin left him. It was when he was tucked up in his own bed that he heard the sobs through the walls. The floor was cold against his feet as he rushed down the landing. He reached for the door, almost pushing it open, but stopped. What could he do? There was nothing to fix this. He sank to the floor. No one should cry alone, he thought. He listened, and waited, and when Arthur’s cries turned into soft breathing and then faint snores, Merlin rose and went to bed. The darkness weighed heavy upon him. He stared at the ceiling for a long time. When morning finally came, he hardly knew if he had slept at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Have fun still! Comment, if you like. Go to sleep if it's late.


	3. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets nosy neighbour baked goods, Merlin has a cry.

For three days, Arthur did not say anything at all. Merlin watched him make attempts to rally himself, but always he would lose the energy, and stare at the wall or at the rain lashing across the window. Bunty sat patiently in his lap. When Arthur did finally touch her, she shifted position and butted into his hand with her face. Arthur looked down, dazed, as if he did not realise she had been there.

A knock at the door drew Merlin’s attention. Slowly, he made his way into the hallway, then stopped on the mat.

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Jasminder, Merlin. Jasminder Lahiri.’

He unlocked the door.

‘Mrs Lahiri,’ he said, then looked down. ‘What’s that?’

She thrust the tin-foil wrapped package at him.

‘Apple crumble, to welcome your friend to the neighbourhood. Just heat it in the microwave for one minute.’

‘Haven’t got a microwave.’

‘Is that so? Oven then. Hundred and eighty degrees should do it.’

Merlin felt warmth behind him. Arthur was there, by his shoulder.

‘Oh hello dear,’ said Mrs Lahiri. ‘I’m just dropping you a crumble.’

Awkwardly, Merlin raised the package for Arthur to see and then pointed at Mrs Lahiri. Arthur seemed to get the gist, for he lowered his head to bow. Mrs Lahiri made a shocked laugh.

‘Well boys, I’ll be off. Gosh but I hope the rain stops before market day. Ta ra then.’

Back in the kitchen, Merlin popped the package near the kettle.

‘What language were you speaking?’

He turned round.

‘It’s called English.’

‘English. Does everyone speak it here?’

‘Most people here do, yeah.’

‘I’ve never heard of it.’

‘It’s…new.’

‘What about our language? Is that still spoken?’

‘Um…well.’

‘Merlin.’

‘No. It’s not.’

Arthur nodded, looking away. After a long moment, he said: ‘I shall have to learn it then. This English.’

‘I’ll help you.’

‘Obviously.’

Merlin smiled. Arthur was talking. Arthur was making him sound like an idiot again.

‘What is that?’ Arthur was nodding at the tin-foil package.

‘It’s an apple cake. Mrs Lahiri made it for you, to welcome you here.’

Arthur blinked at him.

‘For me?’

‘Yeah. I’ll get the oven on and we can try a slice.’

Just then there was another knock at the door.

‘Oh what now,’ Merlin grumbled and left the kitchen.

‘What,’ he said to the door.

‘It’s Mrs Mowberry, Merlin.’

Merlin opened the door.

‘What is it?’

Mrs Mowberry waved a plastic box at him.

‘Jam tarts. For your friend.’

Merlin took the box.

‘Will you be at the Watch meeting tomorrow?’

‘No.’

‘Only we’re discussing Queenie Miller, you know, the girl that went missing. We want to put together a search party to assist the police.’

‘Right. Thanks. See you.’

He shut the door.

‘More treats,’ he said, back in the kitchen. Arthur was staring at the oven, Bunty on his lap. He looked up when Merlin came in. Merlin waved the box at him.

‘Jam tarts from Mrs Mowberry.’

‘Who?’

‘One of the Neighbourhood Watch. I suspect that’s why everyone knows you’re here. She’s the one you saw after you’d…when you came back.’

‘What’s Neighbourhood Watch?’

‘Ugh, basically a group of curtain twitchers. They have their eyes out for crime to keep the village safe.’

‘Are you in the Watch?’

‘No. I mean. They want me to be. There’s a meeting tonight, she was asking me to come.’

Merlin put the tarts on the sideboard and busied himself with putting the apple crumble in the oven. He set a timer and took a seat at the table.

‘What’s the meeting about?’ Arthur asked.

‘Oh…well a girl went missing a few days ago. Police have been trying to find her.’

‘Police?’

‘Law keepers.’

Arthur glanced down, then back up.

‘We should help.’

‘What?’

‘We should go searching for her. Can’t you do something with…with.’

‘My magic.’

Arthur nodded. The oven beeped. Merlin got up and dished out the crumble. They ate quietly. Merlin stole glances of Arthur, his hair, his twitchy fingers.

-

The clouds were heavy with unshed rain. Merlin was out in the garden with the watering can. Arthur sat on the doorstep, Bunty at his feet. Merlin was beginning to feel wholly replaced.

‘I must say forgiefu to Lady Lahiri, and Lady Mowberry as well. Where can I find them?’

Beads of water nestled in the green leaves, slipping down into the soil.

‘They aren’t Ladies and in English you say “thank you.”’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said and snorted when Arthur chucked a pebble at him.

A hedge sparrow fluttered down and Merlin had to quickly shoo it off before Bunty caught the scent.

‘Will they be at the meeting you spoke of?’ Arthur asked.

‘Why?’

‘We shall go and thank them there.’

Merlin put the watering can down.

‘No Arthur. We’re not going. We’re not getting involved.’

Arthur stood up, clearly angry.

‘So now you know about toasters and English you can tell me what to do?’

‘I can if it’s good for you.’

Instead of replying, Arthur huffed and marched back inside. Bunty followed.

Merlin slumped in the grass. He was making a mess of this. But it was not like anyone had given him any guidance. 

He sighed and glanced through the rippling sea of trees that bordered his little cottage. The presence of the river was always there. Though he could not see it, he felt that it was watching him.

Brushing off his hands on his trousers, he went back inside. Arthur was sitting rigidly on the sofa.

‘I’m sorry,’ Merlin said. ‘I know this isn’t easy.’

‘Yes it is, it’s perfectly easy. I want to go to that meeting and help that girl and you’re being an arse.’

‘I’m not being an arse, I’m trying to keep you safe!’

‘What are you babbling about,’ Arthur sneered, turning away. Merlin sat down beside him.

‘This is exactly the kind of thing you were always getting yourself into before. I thought I could protect you but I was wrong and there’s no way I’m risking you again. I couldn’t stand it. I think…I think I’d lose my mind. I don’t know what would…what would happen to me.’ Tears slipped down his cheeks. Embarrassed, he wiped them off with his sleeve, but a firm hand tore his wrist away from his face. Arthur’s hand moved to squeeze his, palm to palm.

‘Alright,’ Arthur said, gentle. ‘Alright, Merlin.’

The sun appeared behind a cloud and warm light pooled into the room. They sat, thighs pressed together, for a long time. After a while, Merlin stood up and began rifling through his bookshelves. He returned with a very old, illustrated copy of the English dictionary. Together, they flipped through the pages, Arthur stopping every so often to sound words out.

‘This castle looks so real,’ he said at one point, pointing to a photograph of Chepstow Castle. ‘The artist is very talented.’

Merlin smiled, feeling a little lighter.

-

At half past six, Merlin found the baggiest jumper and coat in his wardrobe and plonked them in Arthur’s lap.

‘The trousers you’re wearing will have to do since anything I’ve got will be too small.’

‘We’re going?’

‘Yes. We’re going. But you can’t go wandering off or get carried away or tell anyone where you come from because they’ll cart you straight off to the loony bin.’

Arthur jumped up, grinning. The sight almost knocked Merlin off his feet.

Coats on, they left some food out for Bunty and then headed through the door.

‘This will give me a chance to practice the English,’ said Arthur when they were halfway down the street.’

‘Uh, I think I should do the talking.’

‘Nonsense, Merlin. I’m getting the hang of it already.’

As soon as they were through the front door to the Town Hall, they were bombarded by an out of breath Mrs Mowberry.

‘You came! Bless my eyes, Jasminder! Jasminder, Merlin’s here!’

‘What!?’ someone screamed, unseen in the shadow.

‘Come in, come in.’ Mrs Mowberry ushered them in then turned to Arthur.

‘Hello, young man. Pleased to meet you again.’

She held out her hand. Arthur took it, but, before he could bring it to his lips as Merlin saw he was about to do, Merlin elbowed him in the shoulder and he dropped it.

‘I’m Mrs Mowberry, Gladis Mowberry.’

Arthur bowed.

‘Hello,’ he said. ’I be name Arthur.’ He looked at Merlin, obviously pleased with himself.

‘Very nice to meet you Arth- Wait! Arthur,’ she said, pointing. ‘And Merlin.’ She let out a loud, giggling shriek. Merlin took a step back and squeezed Arthur’s jumper. ‘That’s hilarious! What _are_ the chances of that!’

‘Uhh.’ This was obviously too complicated for Arthur to follow.

‘How did you two meet then?’

Arthur blinked at her.

‘Heo ascia humeta wit becnawan,’ Merlin said.

‘Ah,’ Arthur nodded. ‘Merlin ond Arthur, drut uh…nese, friend, forever.’

‘How lovely,’ Mrs Mowberry nodded encouragingly, but Merlin barely heard her because Arthur had used the word “drut.”. _Drut_ meant friend, it did, but not like the usual word “freowine,” which meant comrade or companion. _Drut_ was much deeper; it meant friend, companion, beloved one.

‘Alright, let’s get started!’ someone yelled near the altar - the Town Hall doubled for a church - and Mrs Mowberry ushered them further in. They took a seat in one of the aisles and the lights were dimmed. Someone had pulled the screen down and turned the projector on.

‘Right. Thank you all for coming,’ shouted Mrs Lahiri. ‘As you know, police are still searching for Queenie Miller.’ Here, she stopped and fiddled with the projector so that a photograph of Queenie Miller now set the church aglow. ‘She was last seen at Beachy Farm, not three miles from here, so I’d like to put forward that we put together a search party. We’d split off into groups and comb through each field, lane, and patch of grass till we bring that girl home. Right, Gladis, you wanted to go over the basics.’

Arthur tensed beside him. He was staring at the photograph. Merlin searched his memory for any knowledge he had of how photographs work so that he could explain it to him, but was quickly cut off by Arthur’s hand on his knee.

‘Melin.’

‘What, what’s wrong?’

‘I…I dreamt of her.’

‘You what?’

‘I’ve been dreaming about her since I got here.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a good time to say, I am not an Old English Expert. If it is truly a slight to the eyes and you know of more accurate words, help me.
> 
> Anyway, hello! I hope you're well :) Who else is reading Merlin fanfic to cope?


	4. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur puts the kettle on, Merlin feels things.

A breeze sent leaves scattering across the pavement outside the Town Hall. It was decided that they would meet tomorrow after the market had thinned out and divide themselves into groups to look for the missing girl.

‘Good bye,’ Arthur called to the women as Merlin thought on what he had told him. _I’ve been dreaming about her since I got here_. Of course, this brought forth memories of Morgana that Merlin would rather forget. He thought of her often, not wanting to, of what he could have done differently. 

‘Oh Merlin, Merlin!’ Mrs Mowberry was running across the car park. ‘Phew,’ she said, stopping in front of them and bending over to get her breath back. Finally, she straightened up and said, ‘Mrs Carroll who lives two doors down from you, you know, the one on the corner. Well her niece said she told her you dropped your keys last Tuesday.’

Merlin blinked at her.

‘Yeah, I did.’

‘She said she heard them drop at five past midnight.’

‘…Yeah?’

‘So did you find them?’

‘I never lost them.’

‘Just dropped them?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ah,’ she smiled, satisfied. ‘All good then, see you lads tomorrow.’ She patted his arm and went back across the car park to her blue Toyota.

Arthur looked at him questioningly.

‘She wanted to know if I’d found my keys,’ Merlin said as they turned up the street. Helicopter seeds spun as they fell, flittering past Merlin’s shoulders. One caught in Arthur’s hair.

‘That’s nice of her.’

‘Is it?’

Arthur gave him a look, a familiar one, the _Merlin, you’re a simpleton_ look.

‘She’s nosy, they all are.’

‘So? They seem to like you.’

Merlin shrugged. They were quiet on their way back, Merlin lost in thought. Arthur, he knew, was not a sorcerer. It was ridiculous to even think so. But, then, he was alive. Alive after being killed, after been dead for over a millennia.

_Only sleeping_ , as they said. And then there was the sword, the sword he had pulled from the stone when no one else could. Chosen, he thought. Arthur was chosen, and, he supposed, there was some magic in that.

They were buffeted by bracken which pinged water droplets at them as they brushed against it. Bunty was meowing her little head off when they stepped inside the cottage. Arthur bent down and picked her up, scratching her behind the ears. Immediately, she was purring. Merlin rolled his eyes and went straight for the kettle.

To Merlin’s shock, Arthur said ’Let me do it’ and barged past him to get to the kitchen first. He deposited Bunty onto one of the chairs and picked up the kettle before taking it to the sink. All this, Merlin watched with very wide eyes. When the kettle was on, Arthur turned to Merlin with a big grin on his face.

Merlin nodded.

‘Well done,’ he said, but it came out as a whisper.

Arthur stepped closer.

‘Are you alright?’

Merlin nodded.

‘Is it because of the dreams?’

‘Oh…’ For a moment, he had forgotten. ‘Uh…yes.’

‘It might not mean anything…maybe I.’ Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. He frowned. ‘No, yes it probably means something.’

Merlin snorted and passed him, their shoulders brushing as he went to take two cups down from their hooks. He busied himself with pouring hot water and fetching the milk.

When they were sat at the table, he said, ‘Tell me about the dreams.’

Arthur blew on his tea.

‘Well,’ he said after taking a sip. ‘It’s always the same. Her face, that’s all I really see. Wherever she is, it’s dark. And she looks scared.’

‘Okay,’ Merlin nodded.

‘Can you not use magic to find her?’

‘I…’ He could, he could reach out and ask the sky and the wind and the plants. ‘I suppose.’

Arthur gave him an expectant look.

‘What, now?’

‘Now would be good, _Mer_ lin.’

With a put-upon sigh, he stood and went into the living room. He sat down in the middle of the carpet and breathed. Arthur had followed him in and was watching him from the sofa. Merlin closed his eyes.

For a long, frightening moment, he felt nothing. Just the black behind his eyes, the air in the room. Then he was travelling. The trees moved outside, drawing him forth.

_Where is she?_ he asked.

But they did not answer. Then he came to the river, which he wished never to see again, and in any case, that remained quiet too.

He opened his eyes.

‘What?’ asked Arthur.

‘Nothing. It’s not working.’

Arthur moved, padding across the carpet and plonking himself down in front of Merlin. He reached out and took Merlin’s hand.

‘Try again.’

He heard Arthur gasp and knew that his eyes had changed colour. Then he closed them again. Immediately, he was somewhere else, in a dark field battered by the wind. He could hear a voice, and tried to draw near, but something was pushing at him, telling him to go away. His eyes found a crooked barn that was falling apart. Whole sections of the roof were gone. He knew she was in there, but when he opened the door, there was only blackness, no walls, no sound, nothing. Something was keeping him out.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in Arthur’s arms.

‘You were trembling.’

‘I was?’

Arthur nodded against his hair.

‘Where did you go? You couldn’t hear me.’

‘I saw a barn in the middle of a field, but I couldn’t get inside.’

‘Why?’

‘I think there was something magic in there.’ He could hear it now: he could barely catch his breath. ‘This shouldn’t be so hard. It never was before. What’s happening to me?’

Arthur squeezed him tighter.

‘That’s enough for today,’ he said. ‘Drink your tea. Let’s get some rest.’

They sat on the porch with their steaming cups. The chickens were asleep for the night. Up ahead, a boiling ribbon of orange light crested the horizon as the sun set.

‘This is a beautiful place,’ Arthur said. Merlin looked out at his garden. ‘When did you come here?’

Merlin shrugged.

‘I stayed here after, after Camlann. And then I gave up and went away for a long time. I went a bit mad actually. I came here after the…in the 1940s.’

Arthur nodded like he understood. Merlin would laugh if he had the energy.

‘How are you…?’

‘How am I still alive?’

Arthur nudged him with his shoulder.

‘My magic. I think.’

‘And me?’

‘Magic I suppose. This was how it was meant to be. You would come back, and I would be here to help you.’

‘Perhaps that’s why it’s getting harder for you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You said you were finding it harder to use your magic, maybe thats because I’m back now.’

Merlin had not thought of that. Did that mean he could die? He blinked at the dark blue ahead of him. The leaves of his turnips fluttered in the breeze.

‘Why is this how it’s meant to be?’ Arthur asked.

‘I don’t know. There are stories about it. That’s why Mrs Mowberry reacted that way, about our names? People have written books about us.’

‘About us? Why would they do that?’

‘No idea. I’m a peasant and you’re a clotpole.’

Arthur laughed and flicked him on the forehead. He seemed to sober then and looked down at his shoes.

‘If this is how it’s meant to be, it’s not very fair.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘For you to have to wait all this time. Watching people die. I…’ His breathing got heavier, his voice scratchier. ‘It isn’t fair that I should be the cause of all this pain for you.’ He shook his head. ‘Whatever did this, if it were a man I would slice his neck open.’

Merlin had a lot of things to say to that. He wanted Arthur to know that if it was meant to be that Arthur returned, then Merlin would not trade places with anybody, that he would gladly go through all of it if it meant that Arthur would not be alone.

But sometimes that wasn’t true. Sometimes he was so lonely he thought the magic inside him would eat him up. He’d become a creature, a wild, rage-filled thing that wasn’t human and had no love or memories. He had grown sick of watching people die. After the war, the world war that came so soon after the first, he decided he could not make friends anymore. He could not even have acquaintances. It was all too unbearable to watch them go away.

‘It’s…it’s been really hard,’ he said, shivering. Arthur put an arm around his shoulders.

-

They said their goodnights on the landing. Arthur’s eyes were preternaturally blue under the glare of the lightbulb. There was a moth flitting about up there, Merlin could see the shadows of it fluttering across Arthur’s cheeks.

‘If you need anything-’

‘I’ll wake you.’

‘Okay.’

Turning around, Merlin felt like something was pulling him backwards. He kept on all the way to his room until he had locked the door, then he leaned his forehead against the cool wood and breathed out. Calmness settled over his body. He could still feel Arthur’s arm around his shoulders.

They had a big day ahead of them tomorrow. Merlin would need to be focused, not two seconds away from crying at every sight he caught of Arthur alive and well. He got into bed and sighed, wriggling around until he was comfortable. Through the wall, he could hear Arthur’s snores, and soon he was sinking into wooly darkness too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reference to my favourite show, Detectorists. Watch that show if you're feeling down. Nothing bad happens and it's always summer.
> 
> Also, I ignored something the show did involving the sword in the stone, because I thought it was stupid :)
> 
> If you liked this chapter, let me know!


	5. Investigating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin, Arthur, and Mrs Lahiri go a bit Holmes and Watson.

Mrs Lahiri made cuckoo clocks. Except, instead of cuckoos bursting from wooden doors, out came dragons and kraken and many-toothed beasts. They were very popular with the children, and not as popular with the parents.

Merlin had managed to convince Arthur to have beans on toast for breakfast.

‘This looks….abnormal.’

‘Don’t be rude.’

‘And why were they in a liquid. And why were they in a tin box?’

‘Trust me alright?’

Arthur had nodded and taken a big bite, butter from the toast glazing his lips. Merlin tore his eyes away and sipped his tea. Afterwards, they went down to the market to help Mrs Lahiri pack her stall away. Mrs Mowberry was already there, along with Mr Bennet, Miss Clement, and Mr Calahan from the pet shop. Mr Calahan looked quite miserable, his hands thrust into his big woolly jacket and, despite the fact that the rain had stopped twenty minutes ago, his thick glasses still had rain drops on them.

‘Right,’ said Mrs Mowberry. ‘Mister Calahan and Miss Clement, you’ll take Wibbletongue lane and work your way up to Sandy Moors. Mister Bennet and myself will go down Appleton way and take the marshland road. And Mrs Lahiri, you’ll go with Merlin and his chap by Pebble Beeches.’

‘Round the farmland?’ Mrs Lahiri asked.

‘That’s right, did you bring your wellies?’

‘Yep. Don’t worry boys,’ she said, patting Merlin’s elbow. ‘Husband’s leant you some, just put your shoes with my cuckoo clocks and he’ll take them back. Here he is now.’

Quickly, Merlin translated for Arthur all that Mrs Mowberry and Mrs Lahiri had said. A large man with brown skin and a wafting mass of white hair was headed towards them and pulling a cart behind him, two pairs of muddy wellies inside. While Merlin and Arthur tugged them on, Merlin watched Arthur. He was waiting, he realised for Arthur to take charge, or to show some sign that he was uncomfortable at being told what to do, by a little old woman no less. But Arthur didn’t. In fact, he seemed to think the whole thing was completely natural.

Merlin’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t draw his eyes away. When Mrs Mowberry told them all to meet back at the King’s Ransom - the pub down the street from the market - Arthur’s face was all serious determination and his body, though he wore the modern clothes Merlin had leant him, seemed to shimmer with armour, like a photograph of the old Arthur, Camelot’s Arthur, had been over-layed with the image of this one.

However, despite obviously wanting to go tramping off at top speed, Arthur slowed his pace for Mrs Lahiri.

‘Are you alright there Merlin?' she asked. 'Your face is all red. Did you bring suncream?’

‘Uh no…I’m fine.’

Embarrassed, he ruffled his hair and focused his eyes away from the shops and houses to the fields that lay just beyond the village.

‘Hwa sy sun…crin?’ Arthur asked as he put his arm out for Mrs Lahiri: they were turning a corner that led to Pebble Beeches - a vast stretch of farmland owned by the Parasell family - and the road was rocky.

‘Oh thank you dear,’ she said.

‘Sun cream,’ said Merlin. ‘It’s like ointment to put on your skin so you won’t burn.’

‘Really?’ Arthur asked. ‘That’s brilliant.’

‘May I ask, Merlin, what language you’re speaking? I’ve never heard it.’

‘Uhm. Well it’s…Welsh.’

‘And your lad doesn’t speak English?’

‘Not really no.’

‘Unusual that is. But quite nice actually. When I came to this country, I spoke maybe two sentences, my husband even less. Now I dream in English.’

They had reached the top of the winding hill. Trees had bent over, their leaves hanging on for dear life. This part of the land was untilled and empty but for the ruin of an old farm house. Bushes were growing inside of it, bejewelled by blackberries. Further on, passed a rolling field of bright green, was the Parasell manor. Cows grazed nearby.

‘This is Pebble Beeches,’ said Mrs Lahiri, sweeping an arm above the soil. ‘Those fields and the cows are the Parasells, and the barns yonder.’

‘Barns?’ said Merlin.

‘We should head in that direction, then,’ Arthur said.

Merlin translated for Mrs Lahiri, who nodded and took off unaided over the stile that separated the footpath from the field.

‘What were you talking about before?’

Arthur sidled up beside him.

‘Language,’ he answered. ‘She wanted to know what language you speak, so if she asks again just say Welsh alright.’

‘Why would I say that?’

‘Because it’s the closest to the old language.’

‘Why did our language die?’

Merlin didn’t want to say “because of the Anglo Saxons” - he didn’t know how Arthur would react. Blind rage was a likely possibility.

‘It didn’t. We’re speaking it aren’t we?’

Their hands brushed. The soil was wet under their feet. Little green pods were peaking out, searching for the sun. Low clouds cast ship-sized shadows across the earth.

‘Look,’ said Mrs Lahiri as they drew closer to the manor. The cows’ ears twitched, aware of approaching strangers. ‘Mister Parasell.’

Merlin followed Mrs Lahiri’s outstretched arm to the manor. A man, youngish looking, was walking around a vintage car as if to inspect it. His shoes crunched on the white gravel beneath.  
‘That’s Mister Parasell?’ Merlin said, rather incredulous.

‘He’s the son,’ said Mrs Lahiri. ‘Poncy private school type. Village prattle says he got booted out of university last term.’

‘What happened to his face?’ Arthur asked. Merlin squinted. Indeed, upon Parasell’s face was a sweeping red mark. A burn, most likely. Parts were raised, white and bumpy.

‘Has he always had that burn, Mrs Lahiri?’

‘What?’ She looked back to where Parasell was checking the pressure of the wheels. ‘Gosh. No. At least not that I’ve ever seen.’

When Merlin turned back to translate for Arthur, he found that Arthur was already marching forwards, towards the manor. Huffing, he made to follow, Mrs Lahiri hot on his heels.

As they approached, Parasell turned a dark look on them all. Merlin’s skin prickled. There was something odd about the manor, he couldn’t put his finger on it. The sensation of wrongness wafted over him.

‘Are you the appraiser?’ called Parasell, sharply. ‘I wasn’t expecting you till four.’

‘Uh.’ Merlin glanced at Arthur. ‘Yes, we’re the appraisers.’

‘Well get on with it then,’ he said and winced. The burn, it seemed, was still giving him pain. He turned and opened up the boot of his car. As he did so, Merlin noticed the gold ring on his finger. The blue gem in its centre had an odd symbol on it, a bird of some sort.

Parasell huffed.

‘Are you deaf? It’s open, go on.’ He pointed them to the manner and then went on with rifling around in his boot. Merlin took Arthur’s arm and steered him towards the house, ignoring the questioning look. When they stepped into the cool shadow of the manor, Arthur turned an impressed grin on him.

‘You saw it too then?’

‘Saw what?’ said Merlin.

‘The weapon he was hiding, the one you showed me in that big book.’

‘Merlin what on earth are we _doing_?’ That from Mrs Lahiri who had clasped shaky fingers around his wrist. ‘This is breaking and entering.’

‘No it’s not, he let us in.’

‘Under false pretences!’

They crossed the reception area and Merlin lead them all into a room that smelled as old as it looked. Over the ancient wood panelling was a large Georgian carpet. In the corner was a gilded harpsichord, and on the wall were abundant tapestries depicting hunting trips.

‘Was that what you saw?’ Merlin asked Arthur, pointing to two rifles that were mounted above the substantial fireplace.

Arthur nodded.

‘Where?’

‘Up against that metal contraption. Um…’ He made a face like he was thinking. ‘The car?’

‘Yes!’ Merlin yelped, forgetting to be quiet. ‘I mean, yes that’s right.’

‘What about his car?’ Mrs Lahiri hissed. ‘No, wait, I don’t want to know. I’m too old for this. Boys, we must get out of here right this instant.’

‘Who are you?’

They gasped and looked up at the balcony. Partially obscured by an ornate chandelier, a man stood. He had a sweep of red hair and eyes like pebbles, and a considerably haughty look on his face.

‘The appraisers,’ Mrs Lahiri squeaked.

‘Oh,’ the man sneered. Upon his finger, Merlin could see a gold ring.

‘Uh, we’re actually finished down here, if we could,’ he pointed at the stairs that led up to the balcony.

‘Go on then,’ the man drawled, and single file they marched up to meet him. Merlin glanced down at the man’s hand. It was the same ring as Parasell’s. The same symbol. Merlin schooled his features. ‘What do you make of it so far then? You will remember that Robin’s is an ancient family won’t you? Show it the respect it deserves.’

‘Yep,’ piped Mrs Lahiri. They passed him on their way to a narrow corridor that bellowed dust with each creak of their footsteps. Even Mrs Lahiri had to hunch over beneath the alcove that led into the next room. She rounded on them as soon as they had the door closed. ‘We need to get out of here.’

‘What’s that?’

They looked up. Arthur was by the window. The glass was warped, too warped to see through, but, with a hefty shove, Arthur got the window open.

‘Arthur dear.’ Mrs Lahiri rushed forwards. ‘I don’t think we should touch anything, that window is probably five hundred years old.’

Arthur pointed out of the window, then looked down at Mrs Lahiri. Merlin squeezed in. Together, they caught sight of a little house. The field dipped into a valley full of oak trees, then rose again, and it was on this rise that the house was situated. Though it was some way off, the sound of an axe against wood could be heard, and the smell of smoke. The chimney was frothing.

‘That’s the Miller house.’

‘Queenie’s house?’ Merlin asked. ‘Is that still Parasell land?’

Mrs Lahiri nodded, her hair brushing against Merlin’s arm.

‘What are you doing?’ came a lofty voice.

It was Parasell in the doorway. Merlin stepped forwards.

‘All done here, our company will be in touch.’

‘What you can’t give me a figure now?’

‘No, sorry, not the way we do things. We like to go over the information with the team back at the office before making a final verdict.’

‘But.’ Parasell’s eyes flittered down. ‘You haven’t got a clipboard. I thought you’d have a clipboard.’

‘All up here,’ Merlin said, tapping his head. ‘Right, we’ll be off.’ He marched to the door and held it open as Mrs Lahiri shuffled over. The look Arthur sent Parasell when he passed him was truly fowl. Merlin really hoped the man hadn’t noticed.

When the village was in sight and the manor a good mile away, Mrs Lahiri bent over and let out a long breath.

‘What did we just do? We were meant to search the land for Queenie, not play bloody Scooby Doo.’

‘What’s “appraiser”?’ Arthur asked.

‘Like evaluators, evaluating the property…which.’ He switched to English. ‘Why was he expecting an appraiser? Are they doing work to the manor?’

Mrs Lahiri shook her head.

‘Can’t, it’s a listed building.’

‘So they’re selling it?’

‘Parasell wouldn’t allow it surely.’

‘You mean the father? Where is he?’

‘Off in Malaga I suppose, or Switzerland or Ebiza or wherever he wants to spend the summer. Lucky for some, isn’t it.’

Merlin’s thoughts began to spiral.

‘We’d better get to the King’s Ransom,’ said Mrs Lahiri. ‘But we won’t be breathing a word of this to Gladis, or anyone else in fact, are we agreed?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Merlin said. ‘Definitely.’

They took off down the hill, but, Merlin could see, by his peripherals, that Arthur kept glancing back towards Pebble Beeches.

-

It turned out that the other members of the Watch had had no luck whatsoever. Determined not to get downhearted, they arranged to go searching again the day after tomorrow, as soon as church was over, unless, of course, the girl had been found already.

‘No, we didn’t have any luck either,’ said Mrs Lahiri, louder than was necessary.

After two rounds, Merlin and Arthur said their goodbyes.

‘Oh Arthur love,’ crowed Mrs Mowberry, who had perhaps had one too many; her cropped grey hair was in disarray. ‘Here now, I’ve got you these books from the library. My grandchildren used to read them when they were nippers. No offence meant like, but look.’ She opened up one of the books she had in her hand. ‘There’s pictures and labels, see. I thought it could help you a bit, that is, if you want to improve. You don’t have to. Not at all!’ Now she looked a bit stricken. ‘You shouldn’t feel like you’ve got to learn it, not at all. I’m not trying to force you or anything like that.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Mowberry,’ Merlin said, coming to her rescue. ‘That’s really nice of you.’

Mrs Mowberry looked positively gobsmacked. Had he really been so taciturn with her in the past, with all of his neighbours? Guilt settled in his stomach. He took the books from her and bid her good evening.

‘Good evening, Merlin!’ she yelled after him, evidently delighted. ‘Good evening Arthur!’

-

At home, they shrugged their wellies off and collapsed onto the sofa. There was a lot to think about, but Merlin couldn’t bring himself to focus on any of it. Arthur, though, didn’t seem to feel the same way.

‘That house, what did Mrs Lahiri say about it?’

‘She said it’s Queenie Miller’s house.’

Then Arthur wanted to know how they had been allowed into the manor in the first place, and what Merlin had found out in his “English conversations,” so Merlin explained all that too, and then, finally Arthur wanted to know what Mrs Mowberry had said, and what the books were all about.

‘They’re books to help children learn to speak. Don’t pull that face, she thought it could help you.’ He opened one up. ‘Look, it tells you what things are.’

Arthur pulled another face. ‘I know what things are _Mer_ lin.’ He pointed to a picture of a house.

‘Botl,’ he said. 

‘No,’ Merlin said, rolling his eyes and pointed to the word printed in English.

‘I can’t read that.’

Merlin snickered, which he knew was unfair but could not help it.

‘House,’ he said.

‘House,’ Arthur replied. He pointed upwards. ‘House,’ then, without warning, he smiled. To be honest, in all the ages of the world he had lived through, Merlin had never seen a smile like Arthur’s. ‘It was very nice of Mrs Mowberry, wasn’t it?’

‘Huh?’ Merlin felt a bit dazed. ‘Yeah.’ He blinked. ‘But, you know, you don’t have to learn it if you don’t want to.’

‘No. It’s annoying listening to you yap yap and not knowing what you’re talking about. Who knows what rubbish you’re spewing about me.’

‘That’s true.’

Arthur eyed him suspiciously.

‘What have you been saying?’

‘Only that you’re an arse.’

Merlin found himself pinned to the arm of the sofa as Arthur tickled him mercilessly, that lovely smile beaming down at him like a light in the dark. Merlin laughed hysterically, tears in his eyes, till Arthur stopped.

‘You’re such a prat,’ Merlin said, lightly kneeing him in the chest. Gently, Arthur reached down and wiped the tears from Merlin’s cheeks, then sat back and sighed. Merlin watched him, his heart fluttering.

‘What’s for supper?’ Arthur said and Merlin huffed. He rolled his eyes and got up, face burning as he hobbled to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

‘Does your stomach never sleep?’

‘How could a stomach sleep, Merlin?’ Arthur called, following him in and picking up the kettle before taking it to the sink. Merlin stared as Arthur took two cups down and rifled through the tin by the bread bin for tea-bags. Behind them, Bunty uncurled herself from her position under the table and butted her head against Merlin’s ankle. The evening sun dipped low passed the window, blazing the kitchen a shimmering orange. It warmed Merlin’s skin. 

Today had felt like the old days, loping off in search of adventure, trying to help people. He was happy, he realised, and with that happiness came fear. It felt so fleeting, so fragile, to be happy. His fingers itched to reach out and hold on to the source of his happiness lest it fly away for ever and leave him empty handed. His eyes flickered to Arthur. He was upending the kettle, and yelped when the water splashed onto the sideboard. Merlin breathed out, forcing himself to empty his mind. Joy didn’t have to be fleeting, he told himself. Not everything had to go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> I wrote a long paragraph justifying the historical inaccuracy of the "old" language in the context of pre-anglo saxon britain. And then I remembered its a fanfic of a fantasy tv show.
> 
> Anyway, let me know if you liked this chapter :)


	6. Storms and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gets a hug from a chicken, Arthur makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attacks. and very bad reactions to panic attacks. don't do what Arthur does.

Merlin was panicking. As soon as the door opened, he shot up and crashed into the hallway.

‘Where have you been?!’ he shouted, then stepped back as Arthur, shining with sweat, pulled off his t-shirt and used it to wipe his face.

‘I went for a run with Mister Lahiri.’

‘You…what?’ Merlin snapped his eyes upwards. ‘Wait what?’

‘I went to drop off the boots he leant us and get our shoes back. Here.’ He dropped their trainers onto the floor. ‘And he was going for a run, so I went with him.’

‘But…he’s in his seventies!’

Arthur shrugged.

‘It was a slow run.’

He moved past Merlin and went into the kitchen. With a tired huff he sat at the table. Merlin stared after hm.

‘But how did you talk to each other?’ he asked.

Again, Arthur shrugged. ‘We managed.’

‘But I…Arthur.’

Finally Arthur looked at him. One of his brows rose up.

‘Are you alright?’

‘No I’m bloody well not alright!’ he yelled. ’You just swan off to Mister Lahiri’s and go for a run like…how…and then I woke up and you weren’t _there_.’ Arthur had stood up and was getting closer and Merlin was finding it difficult to breathe. ‘Don’t you see how that’s supposed to make me feel I just don’t understand-’

Arthur took him by the arms and shook him.

‘What are you _doing_ ,’ Merlin managed to get out mid shake.

‘You’re panicking.’

‘I know that you ape.’

Arthur stopped, stilling him with firm hands. His blue eyes locked him in place. His hands scrubbed up and down, finger pads grazing the skin beneath his sleeves. Instinctively, Merlin glanced down to Arthur’s lips.

‘Look,’ Arthur said. He had gotten closer. Merlin watched his throat bob when he swallowed. He glanced up. Those blue eyes seemed to boil over. His hair was sticking to his forehead.

‘What?’ Merlin whispered.

‘I…’ Puffs of air cooled Merlin’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’

Merlin actually, physically jumped in surprise.

‘You’re what?’

Arthur groaned.

‘I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should have thought about it.’

Merlin blinked.

‘I…’ Arthur’s gaze settled somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder. ‘I would have reacted in the same way.’

‘You would?’

‘Of course.’

He still hadn’t let go. Merlin swallowed, his mind fuzzy. Arthur’s eyes found his again.

‘Merlin I-’

‘Did you have a nice run?’ he said, disentangling himself and moving towards the living room where Bunty sat licking her paws on the arm of the sofa. He picked her up and squeezed her to him, which caused her to chirrup and place a paw against his cheek.

‘Uh…yes I suppose so.’

‘You’re adjusting very well.’ He did not mean that to sound as accusatory as it did. He wasn’t really surprised that Arthur was dealing with this better than Merlin had. Arthur with his Arthurness, his determination to keep going.

‘Well.’ Arthur sat down again at the table. ‘I’m stuck in this situation aren’t I? So I might as well get on with it.’

Merlin froze, then turned round slowly.

‘Oh you’re stuck are you? And what kind of situation is it that you’re stuck in?’

Arthur pulled a face that said _Are you an idiot?_ and gestured vaguely upwards. ‘You know,’ he said.

‘Not to your liking is it?’

Merlin could see the waves cresting, that if he kept on going they’d crash down around them both, but he couldn’t stop himself.

‘Why’s that then? Because it’s not a castle and you haven’t got me waiting on you hand and foot? Or is it because it’s me you’re stuck with.’

‘What,’ Arthur said, shaking his head. ‘That is _not_ what I meant at all. Merlin-’

‘You don’t actually have to be here you know, you’re free to walk out whenever you want.’

‘Merlin!’ He looked stricken now. Guilt did nothing to slow whatever was hurtling like a storm through Merlin’s chest. These feelings, strong as they were, would usually have had half the kitchen torn apart, pots and pans whirling upwards and crashing down, but that did not happen. His magic hummed inside him, but that was all.

‘If it’s so difficult to be around me why are you even here?’ Bunty struggled in his grip and he let her go.

‘You know that was not what I meant,’ Arthur yelled. ‘You know that! Why are you doing this?!’

‘I don’t know!’

He stormed out of the kitchen.

‘Where are you going?’

The backdoor cut into the skin on his palm.

‘To feed the chickens!’

He marched down the path and grabbed the sack of feed, but it slipped out of his hands and seeds poured out into the grass. A bird fluttered down to inspect it, then quickly fluttered away when Merlin plonked himself down in the grass and heaved wheezing breaths into his hands.

-

The sun rose to full height. One of the chickens, Elfrydda, had tottered into the space made by his crossed legs. Merlin felt heavy with exhaustion. He could tip sideways and sleep in the shrubs. It used to talk to him, the soil, he used to feel its living breaths. All was quiet now. Lighter too. Without the clang of magic, the voices of the earth encircling him like a chainmail cloak, he found he could hear other things. The movement in the leaves, the light pecking of Elfrydda’s beak against the pebbles. An aeroplane soared overhead.

What had happened in the kitchen? What was all that? He should have just stopped. He didn’t even know why he was angry.

‘I’m a prat,’ he told Elfrydda. He thought of Queenie Miller, scared and alone. He didn’t have time to go all wobbly. ‘A proper prat,’ he said. Elfrydda did not seem to agree; she tucked her little head into the crook of his elbow. Bunty appeared behind the turnips and flopped down, watching Elfrydda with curiosity. She liked to pretend she had never seen the chickens before.  
Merlin had come out here in his socks. He huffed and got up. Embarrassment plastered his skin in heat but he couldn’t stay out in the garden all day. Besides, he’d actually found something out while he was waiting, tight-jawed, for Arthur to come home, and Arthur would want to know.

The back door creaked as he pushed it open. The blinds on the windows were tapping against the glass, pluming out like a fan. Arthur wasn’t there. Before blind panic could seize Merlin once more, he caught sight of a blonde head slumped against the arm of the sofa. Quietly, he padded into the living room. Arthur had fallen asleep, still angry it seemed as his brows were knitted together. One arm was tossed over his hair. Sighing, Merlin sat down on the carpet and leant back, stretching his legs out.

Merlin knew he should probably admit it to himself now. Over fifteen-hundred years had gone by, slipping through his increasingly lonely fingers. He should, by now, be able to admit to things nestled so secretly in his heart. Unlock the door, take his secrets out and stare them in the face, see them for what they are. But it had been so long, he had lost the key.

_Just admit it, you great pillock_.

‘But it’s so embarrassing,’ he said.

‘What’s so embarrassing?’

He jumped and twisted round. Arthur blinked blearily at him. Merlin giggled hysterically. Reaching out, Arthur poked him in the head.

‘You know when you said you went mad for a bit, did that ever actually end?’

Merlin rolled his eyes.

‘Shut your gob.’

A small smile appeared, then faded.

‘Merlin.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No, I am. I didn’t mean…I mean, what I said, what I meant was that. That it’s…you know, there are things about all this that are pretty terrible, but there are lots of things that aren’t, so I think I’d rather just focus on those things, the good things I mean.’

The thing Merlin never got used to about Arthur was that Arthur could always surprise him.

‘You can talk to me,’ he said. ‘About the terrible things.’

Merlin, it seemed, could surprise Arthur too.

‘It does no good,’ Arthur said.

‘Talking can do a lot of good.’

‘What good did it do earlier?’

He had a point there. Merlin glanced down at the light that flickered like fairy magic across his hands.

‘I meant to tell you, I did some research this morning while you were out.’

He heard Arthur shifting behind him, sitting up.

‘I looked up that symbol, the one on the rings.’

‘What rings?’

Merlin shifted round, an elbow on the sofa cushions.

‘Didn’t you notice?’ At Arthur’s blank look, Merlin explained it all.

‘Right. Go on.’

‘Well, the symbol is used for a society active in Oxford University. This society, I can’t remember the name, but it was founded by a descendant of Matthew Hopkins. In his time, which was about…four hundred years ago, he was called the Witchfinder General, and apparently the descendent still held his ancestor’s views. The society has been known for holding rituals on the university grounds and more than once there’s been a scandal, with student members ending up expelled. But the reasons for that are equally as shadowy it seems.’

‘Right. So what does that mean?’

Merlin took a breath.

‘I think Queenie is a sorceress. I think that’s why I haven’t been able to find her. She’s pushing me out, somehow.’ Despite the fact that he was meant to be the most powerful sorcerer that has ever walked the earth. Merlin decidedly ignored that part. Too much had happened today without worrying about that as well.

Arthur went quiet for a while, seemingly lost in thought.

‘Do you think,’ he finally said. ‘That Queenie was the one who gave Parasell that burn on his face?’

‘I don’t know. It could be a coincidence but…’

‘Then she’s in danger.’

Merlin nodded. He watched as Arthur’s expression changed from confusion to serious concern. Concern for a magic user, Merlin thought. Internally, he rolled his eyes at himself. Get a grip, he thought sternly.

‘I think we should go to the Miller house,’ Arthur was saying. ‘And before you say it, I know it’s insensitive and brash and her family will probably not be in the mood to talk to a pair of strangers but-’

‘No I agree. I think you’re right.’

If Arthur’s eyebrows rose any higher, they would get lost in his hair.

‘Say that again?’

‘I said I think you are weird and annoying. Shall we go then?’

He stood up and jumped out of the way of the pillow Arthur lobbed at him.

The hallway was awash with early afternoon light. Merlin tugged his shoes on and pulled on a hoody, waiting for Arthur to catch up.

‘What are we going to tell them?’ Arthur asked as he pulled on one of Merlin’s baggier coats.

‘The truth.’

-

Sparrows twittered in the hedgerows. The fields rushed in the breeze, rolling like a yellow sea. 

They took a different route to the valley on Pebble Beeches this time, staying as far from the Parasell manor as they could.

The Millers’ cottage was small, white bricks holding up a roof made of irregular sized stone slates that burst out in places like a pack of playing cards. The chimney was smoking. Merlin knocked on the door.

‘Someone’s already been!’ came a harsh voice from within.

‘I’m sorry?’

There was a pause, then a rattle, and the door opened. Within the shadow appeared a stocky black man of about fifty. He wore a threadbare jumper and his hands were callused and smudged with soot.

‘You’re not police?’

‘No,’ said Merlin. ‘We’re from the Neighbourhood Watch. Mrs Mowberry, that is, she’s organised a search party and we just thought…’

Despite the man’s build, he looked like a strong breeze could knock him off his feet. His face was sunken, the skin under his eyes inky and thin.

‘Mister Miller,’ he said. ‘We want to help your daughter.’

Mr Miller shook his head.

‘There’s no one can help.’

‘I can,’ he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you are enjoying this...thing :)


	7. It Calls to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has feelings, Merlin has to share his duvet.

The Miller cottage was truly titchy. Mr Miller led them into a cosy living room decked in knitwear; crocheted blankets covering the sofa, multi-coloured lace doilies adorning the coffee table. Mr Miller gestured them both to the sofa and took the armchair for himself.

‘Tell me then,’ he said. ‘How can you help me? Because the police have done sod all so far.’

‘What about the Parasells?’

‘Why should they do anything?’

‘Well, your house is on their land. I suppose I expected they would offer whatever help they could.’

A shadow fell across Mr Miller’s eyes. Anger simmered there.

‘Mr Miller,’ Merlin said, leaning forwards. ‘He was here, wasn’t he?’

For a moment, Mr Miller seemed to sink into himself.

‘I tried to tell them,’ he said.

‘Tell who?’

‘The police. I told them they ought to look for Robin Parasell. Queenie wouldn’t just run away, she wouldn’t. He was kicked out you know, from his university. No surprise there, he always had a temper. He’s not right.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what he might do if…if…’

He trailed off and looked out of the window. Dust swam in the beams of light coming through the murky glass. Merlin noticed, then, that one of the squares of glass was missing, spiked pieces sticking out from the frame.

‘If what, Mister Miller?’

‘If he has her,’ the man whispered.

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I can’t.’

Shakily, Mr Miller got to his feet and started rifling through a stack of old magazines he had on the bureau in the corner.

‘You best go,’ he said.

‘She did something didn’t she? Queenie. Something you can’t explain.’

Mr Miller’s tired eyes shot to his.

‘Who are you?’ he asked. Merlin glanced to Arthur. Though he could not follow the conversation, Arthur’s face showed stricken concern. He watched the man as if reaching a hand out to steady him.

Merlin looked back.

‘Mister Miller. I want to help you. I can help you. But first you have to tell me what happened.’

‘You wouldn’t believe it.’

‘Believe me, I would.’

The man shuffled over and dropped back into his chair.

‘It was…a week or so ago. I can barely remember what day it is. He came to the house, Robin. He told us that he was selling Pebble Beeches, the manor, the farm, and my cottage. I knew that Mister Parasell, the father that is, wasn’t in the country. I reckoned his son was doing this off his own back, you know. The father’s that aristocratic type, the whole bloodline, keep it in the family type, all that. He’d never sell up unless he was in proper deep with….I don’t know what. Queenie was distraught. We’d been saving you see, for Queenie to go to university in a few years time. And Robin was saying we have to leave quick like. By the end of the month. Queenie wasn’t having any of it. She said he had no right because the land wasn’t in his name, it was in his father’s, and that we wouldn’t be moving a finger to pack up until his father came down and told us to.’

Here he paused and his fingers twitched above the arm rest. He shook his head.

‘Robin, he went mad. Seemed to just snap. “How dare you speak to me like that, who do you think you are!” He went off about his family and his schooling, how it made him better than us. That we were lucky his father had let folk such as us stay on Pebble Beeches for so long. And…that’s when _I_ snapped. These people…it’s people like the Parasells, spongers of society. Well, I don’t mean to get political. Queenie tells me once I get going I don’t stop. But what right did he have to speak such clap trap in my own home? I told him to get stuffed. To get out of my house or I’d set the dog on him.’

The wind was stirring outside, moaning through the gap in the window.

‘That’s when he grabbed me. He grabbed me by the neck.’

Mr Miller’s eyes were watery, glittering as they twitched around the room.

‘And then Queenie…she screamed, and then a flash of light, and there…I don’t know where it came from.’

His eyes flickered to Merlin’s.

‘I’ve tried to think of some way that…that it could have happened but. There were no candles…no…no light was on, it was the daytime.’

‘What happened Mister Miller?’

‘Fire. A ball of fire burst inside the room. Burst from my daughter. I was pushed back and then there was screaming. It was Parasell. His face…he was screaming into his hands, and then he ran out.’

‘And Queenie?’

‘She collapsed. I helped her up and helped her to bed. She came to and she…she looked terrified. Terrified of _me_.’ Tears slipped from his eyes and dropped in little patters onto his trousers. ‘But I know that she didn’t run away. The next evening, I returned from work in the village. All was dark in the house. The window was smashed, as if it had been shot through, and my Queenie was gone.’

He scrubbed a hand down his face.

‘He’s taken her. He’s taken my daughter. The police say they’ve searched the manor, that there’s nothing there but…but where else could she be? I’ve tried to get in but everything is locked tight. He has so many friends.’

He was openly sobbing now. Merlin felt a firm press against his own shoulder.

‘Becrafian hine hwilc dimhof Queenie eyre buan,’ Arthur said. _Ask him in which hiding place Queenie would choose to dwell_.

‘Mr Miller. If Mister Parasell has not taken her, where might Queenie go?’

‘She wouldn’t!’ Mr Miller’s hands formed into fists that shook against his knees. ‘She wouldn’t run away. I’ve told you.’

‘Forgive me, I meant where might she hide? Do you know of any place she would feel safe or…somewhere she would know could keep her hidden.’

‘I…I don’t know.’

‘Alright. I’m sorry Mister Miller, for intruding and for-’

‘Can you help?’ Mister Miller rose to his feet. ‘You said you could. I don’t care what she’s done, whatever it was, the fire, I don’t care. You said you could get her back. Can you? Will you?’

Merlin had been so sure that he could, but now that he had been asked, doubt set in. Arthur pushed at his shoulder again. He was giving Merlin a questioning look.

‘Yes,’ Merlin said. ‘Yes I will. I’ll do everything I can.’

-

It was late afternoon by the time they reached Merlin’s ramshackle cottage. Merlin had explained it all to Arthur on the way. The look of determination since then had not left Arthur’s face. 

‘You think he’s hunting her? Because of her magic?’ This he asked when Merlin had put the kettle on. The steam fogged the glass in the window; the summer heat had flown off with the wind. Merlin could smell rain in the air.

‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘It could be that. Or it could be that he wants revenge for what she did to him. People who wish to persecute others for things outside of their control, and those who seek revenge by tormenting others, are often, I find, one and the same.’

Arthur glanced at him. Merlin was not sure what he found there on Arthur’s face. Sadness? Pity? Merlin didn’t know.

‘Were you,’ Arthur whispered, then cleared his throat. ‘Were you ever in danger because of…’

‘My abilities? Countless times,’ he laughed. ‘If I was in Camelot, I was in danger.’

Again, an unreadable expression appeared on Arthur’s face. It was highly disconcerting; Merlin could usually tell what Arthur was thinking.

Merlin turned to the sideboard and busied himself with pouring water from the kettle and fetching the milk from the fridge.

‘I would have protected you,’ Arthur said, making him jump.

‘How?’ he asked. For that, Arthur had no answer. After that, they were quiet. They drank their tea in silence, and went about the rest of the day quietly. Merlin could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, but he never looked back.

-

The chill had gotten into the house when darkness had fallen. Merlin hiked the duvet up under his chin and watched as the light from the candle he had on his bedside table flickered across the ceiling. Twisting round, he leaned over to blow it out, but stopped when the door creaked open. Arthur stepped inside and closed the door behind him before padding across the room. He sat on the bed.

‘Arthur?’ he managed.

Arthur huffed and shifted round so that he lay beside Merlin. He pulled at the duvet, then shuffled in, getting comfy. A long moment passed by as Merlin forced himself to breathe normally. Then Arthur sighed and let the cold in when he sat up to blow the candle out. The bed squeaked as he lay back down, but, this time, he settled onto his side, his arm resting softly against Merlin’s chest.

‘Whatever it would have taken,’ Arthur said quietly into the dark. ‘Whatever I could have done to keep you safe, I would have done it.’

His knees pressed against Merlin’s thigh.

‘You have to know that, Merlin.’

Merlin felt his heart hammering against Arthur’s arm.

‘I do,’ Merlin said.

‘I know why you didn’t tell me before.’ Arthur closed his eyes then. ‘I just…wish that you had.’

‘I wanted to,’ he whispered. ‘I wanted to so many times.’ _I wanted you to know me_.

He turned to face Arthur, squeezing his eyes shut. Arthur’s hair fluttered against Merlin’s forehead. Beneath his hand, Arthur’s heart was beating fast.

_I’m so tired_ , he thought, and then sleep softened his bones and he was swaying on a sea of dreams as Arthur’s chest rose and fell like the tide.

Freezing air caught him and pulled him out of sleep and into his bedroom. Arthur was no longer beside him. He was by the door, reaching out for the handle.

‘Arthur?’

When no answer came, Merlin pushed the duvet off and crossed the room. Arthur had got hold of the doorknob and a puff of cool air was let in as he opened the door. His eyes, Merlin realised, were closed.

_Sleepwalking_. But Arthur didn’t sleepwalk. Not in all the time Merlin had known him. Merlin actually had no clue what you were meant to do with a sleepwalking person. He followed Arthur across the landing, then down the stairs, then started to panic when Arthur managed to get the front door open and stepped out, bare-foot, into the night. Above them the sky was full of stars.

Arthur continued onwards, eyes still closed, as if led by an invisible string. Opposite Merlin’s house was a small forest. Twigs snapped beneath their feet as Merlin struggled to keep up. The trees moved slowly like grey ghosts. Silently, Arthur found a path all the way to the gleaming light that glittered ahead. It was the lake, Merlin knew, the moonlight hitting the lake. Before he knew what he was doing, his arm shot out and he gripped Arthur’s wrist tightly.

‘Stop. Stop. Arthur wake up.’

He tugged on his wrist, trying to pull him away from the bank of the lake. He could hear the water lapping the shore. He tried to plant his feet and yanked Arthur’s arm to his chest, but Arthur would not stop. He dragged Merlin with him.

When they reached the end of the forest and the lake appeared, Merlin saw that the gleaming light had not come from the moon. There was something there, floating above the water and shining with white light.

‘Excalibur,’ he breathed. It was Excalibur. The sword was suspended above the lake, the blade pointed downwards. Arthur reached out and Merlin’s hand fell away. Splashing water frightened the crows from the tree-tops. Arthur moved against the lapping waves till they soaked him up to his chest, and then his fingers touched the hilt of the sword. The light faded, the glow encircling Excalibur gone as soon as Arthur tightened his grip. When he turned back to the bank, his eyes were open. His face was covered in water droplets and he was breathing hard. Then his eyes shot upwards to the sky as a shot rang out.

‘Merlin.’

Another shot was fired.

‘Queenie,’ Merlin said. All was deathly quiet after that, save for the sounds of Arthur sloshing his way back to Merlin’s side. Merlin turned to him. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, and they took off into the forest.


	8. Queenie Miller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur serves looks, Merlin runs.

When they stepped over the tree-line, Merlin froze. His front door was wide open and a gust of what looked like broken glass was flying towards them. He reached out but before he could get a grip on Arthur’s t-shirt, he was thrown backwards. Sitting up, he saw that, whatever it was, Arthur was completely enveloped in it. He could just make out the lines of his body swaying and his hair whipping back and forth. Then the gust was gone and all was still and quiet. Now, Merlin could see what the pieces had been, for Arthur was kitted out in armour and chainmail, his red cloak bellowing out behind him. His boots had materialised as well. Arthur glanced at him over his heavy shoulder, then took off in the direction the gun shots had come from.

‘Arthur!’

Quickly, Merlin ran into his cottage and tugged his trainers on before hurrying back out into the dark. Arthur was still in sight, the moonlight glinting off of his armour. Merlin swallowed his fright at the sight of him like this and managed to catch up.

The village was mostly quiet, except for one house which had all of its lights on. They ignored it and ran up the hill that led to Pebble Beeches.

‘Where is she, where is she,’ Arthur puffed out when they reached the top. ‘Merlin where is she?’

Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Inside his mind, he soared across the fields, but soon met a wall of blackness. _She’s trying to hide_. Whether Queenie was aware of it or not, she was blocking him out. He was certain now, of something he had not wanted to think about: she was more powerful than him. Or rather, she was as powerful as he had been, until quite recently when his power had began to wane.

‘Queenie. Queenie let me in.’

The wall of black remained unshakeable.

‘Queenie.’ He felt Arthur clasp his shoulder. ‘Let me in!’

Like a thunderclap, her eyes appeared in his mind, glowing yellow, and he saw her. She was inside a dilapidated barn not far from her own home, nestled in a field a few miles past the valley. For a moment, Merlin thought he would lose consciousness. Her power was torrential.

‘Come on,’ he choked and they took off across the dry, tilled earth. Clumps of mud showered upwards, kicked up by their feet. As they neared the valley, the sound of echoey laughter rebounded off the trees. Mr Miller’s cottage was stony grey, but the man was sat on the stoop, a wireless telephone clenched in his hands. Arthur took off into the shadow of the valley, avoiding the cottage, and Merlin struggled to keep up.

‘Arthur she’s past the trees,’ he said when the trees began to thicken and the sight of Arthur decked out in the clothes of a Camelot knight was not so incongruous with the century. ‘Out in the field beyond.’

Arthur led them out and they had to jump over a stream reddened by iron and climb up a rocky ridge before they made it to open countryside. The laughter was louder now; they were getting closer. Merlin could even make out the barn with its tree shooting up out of the roof. Figures moved around it. There were three, one with the clear silhouette of a rifle in his hands, and their jeering voices were loud and clear. Merlin watched as Arthur grit his teeth.

The figures then disappeared inside the barn and Merlin watched, heart in his throat, as Queenie was dragged out kicking and screaming into the wheat that grew there. He wondered how it was that they had only now just found her, until he realised that, until now, she had been blocking everyone out, hiding from everyone - not even the police would have been able to find her, until he had asked her to stop.

‘ _No_ ,’ he breathed and quickened his pace.

The figures were becoming clearer now. One of them, he had not seen before, but the other two were Robin Parasell and the man they had seen in the Parasell manor, the one who had shouted down at them from the landing.

‘Have you got the rope?’ he heard Parasell say to the man, who nodded and passed it over. ‘No,’ Parasell said, waving it away. ‘You tie the witch up. You,’ he said to the other, ‘Pass me the dagger.’

As soon as the ropes touched Queenie’s wrists, she let out a heaving sob.

‘ _Shut up_!’ yelled Parasell, ‘or your father will be next.’

Merlin could feel it coming, a wave underneath his feet, pulsing from where Queenie lay in the corn. Her fright was catching and seemed to be felt by everything around her. The trees rushed over each other, the crows in their branches bursting out. The air howled, whipping up the soil. One of Parasell’s men took a worried step back, but the others, it seemed, had not noticed, or did not care. Queenie was tied up at her wrists and ankles and Parasell stood over her, the dagger in his hand.

‘This is revenge,’ he said. ‘For myself, for the men who came before me who suffered at woman’s hand, for the world that you corrupt by the very act of living. Your existence is an abomination and I will purify its stain.’ Then, he said ‘Et bellator ad daemonia occidere venit.’ - _the warrior comes to kill devils_.

He raised the dagger. They were too far away, they would not reach her in time. Merlin watched horror-struck as the dagger descended and then, with a shock of bright light, he was knocked off of his feet.

He heaved a breath. Everything ached. He blinked, squinting into the light. Only Arthur was still standing. The men, he saw were lying on the floor as if knocked out, and Queenie was shaking in the grass.

‘Queenie,’ Merlin called out. She whimpered. All was drenched in the white light as it pulsed from her chest. When Merlin tried to sit up, it was like moving through syrup. But Arthur, he saw, moved freely through it, walking with Excalibur gripped tightly in his palm. Merlin struggled to his feet. To his left, he saw Parasell stammer upwards too and reach out for his rifle.

Merlin had no time to call out, Parasell had already pulled the trigger.

And then, without looking, Arthur raised Excalibur, and the bullet clanged and ricocheted off of its gleaming surface. Pushing through, Merlin staggered forwards just as Parasell raised the rifle again. This time, the trigger was stayed by the sound of sirens. Behind them, the roar of an engine and oscillating blue and red lights broke through the dark. Merlin turned back to Arthur. As soon as Arthur reached her, Queenie’s light disappeared. He cast Excalibur into the corn, knelt down, and picked her up.

‘Arthur,’ she said. ‘I dreamed of you.’ Then she closed her eyes and fainted away in his arms.

Parasell’s men dashed off in all directions as two police cars drew nearer. Before Parasell could do the same, Merlin launched himself at him, grabbing his arms so tightly that he dropped the rifle. The cars engines rumbled behind them, and the doors of one swung open. Out stepped a short, stout woman and a gangly man, both sporting matching stony expressions.

‘Fletcher,’ said the woman. ‘Two went off in that direction. Hold these lot here won’t you while I go fetch them.’ With that, she took off at a steady run.

Fletcher looked back at them, his eyes darting tiredly to the rifle at their feet.

‘That yours?’ he asked Merlin.

‘His,’ he said, as Parasell struggled in his grip.

Fletcher nodded. ‘Think you can let go of him now, don’t you?’

‘Right,’ he said, oddly embarrassed, and stepped away from Parasell who dropped to his knees. The dagger, he saw, was on the floor too.

‘That his too?’ Fletcher asked, obviously having followed Merlin’s gaze. Merlin nodded. ‘Can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you Robin? Daddy’s not in the country this time is he? Not so lucky then.’

-

After the policewoman returned with Parasell’s friend - the other had not yet been found - Merlin had managed to convince her that Queenie really did live in the cottage in the valley and that her father was waiting there.

‘We know,’ she said. ‘He called after Mrs Mowberry. Does that woman never sleep?’

The other car, which carried Robin and his friend, went straight to the station. Merlin and Arthur would be taken in for questioning after Queenie had been dropped off. Merlin did not want to even think about how that would work out, what with Arthur’s inability to actually understand a word anyone said aside from the basics.

Queenie had woken inside the police car, in Arthur’s arms. She blinked owlishly at them all. When they rounded the cottage, she burst out of the car and Merlin watched as she flung herself at her father.

‘Oh my girl, my girl.’

Before the police could take them away, however, she came back and hugged Arthur tightly.

It was only when they were stepping out onto the cobblestones that fronted the police station, that Merlin realised they did not have Arthur’s sword with them. _Bloody Hell_ , he thought. Had they just left Excalibur in the middle of a cornfield?

It took some time for the police to take down their statements, especially as Merlin had to translate everything for Arthur, which he occasionally could not do accurately as either there was not an English counterpart to the word or Merlin had simply forgotten what a word meant. It did not take them long, however, to surmise that Merlin and Arthur were innocent of any crime associated with Robin Parasell, and they were allowed to leave.

The sky was still dark as they ambled their way back to Merlin’s cottage, but the sun showed its return in little patches of pink that peppered the underbelly of large, blue clouds. With each step that Arthur took, pieces of his armour came away and floated up into the atmosphere. Merlin wondered if they were on their way back to the cupboard in Merlin’s living room, or if they would be gone for good.

It turned out, when they were sitting, exhausted, on the sofa, that the cupboard was empty. Arthur’s cloak, and armour, and chainmail were gone. He sat in his pyjamas, his bare feet wriggling in the carpet.

‘This must be…’ Merlin started. He itched his hair. ‘This must have been why you came back. To save her. She has magic…she’s important. I…I could help her too.’ He had felt so weak in the field. It was still there, that undercurrent of magic that hummed inside him. He was born of magic. He was magic, after all. But Merlin also knew that, like atoms, all the magic that ever was and ever would be already existed. Perhaps it was meant to be that, while his power grew weaker, Queenie’s grew stronger.

‘No,’ Arthur said. ‘That’s not why I came back.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Maybe I was sent back for that, maybe. But that’s not why _I_ came back.’

Merlin glanced at him, face knitted in derision. It was just like Arthur, he thought, to think he had returned of his own accord.

‘Then why did you come back, oh great Arthur of Camelot?’

Arthur laughed like it was obvious.

‘For you,’ he said, then leaned over, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> -  
> -
> 
> Hello ! Let me know if the Latin is wrong! And if you enjoyed the chapter!


	9. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gives a Yoda speech, Arthur has a sneeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone order an emotion?

A little gasp puffed out of Merlin’s lips as he closed his eyes. It was only for a moment, then Arthur moved back. His hair tickled Merlin’s nose. Merlin searched his face and found that Arthur was blushing, pink blooming beneath his eyes like cherry blossoms. He almost looked shy. They moved together this time, hesitant until their mouths brushed. Arthur parted his lips, pressed closer. Merlin’s hands fluttered, laying gentle as doves against Arthur’s shoulders, scared that if he pressed any harder, Arthur would realise what he was doing and put an end to it. Arthur drew back and kissed the side of his mouth, then his cheek. Merlin’s hands tangled themselves in Arthur’s hair as he pressed their lips together again. Then Arthur’s arms were winding around Merlin’s waist, and, quite suddenly, he picked him up. Merlin gasped and gripped him tightly round the neck.

‘Where are you taking me?’ he breathed.

‘To the bed,’ he said.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and laughed into Arthur’s shoulder.

‘Okay,’ he whispered.

-

The chickens clambered around his ankles as he poured seeds into the grass. Up above, the sky was cloudless. He had left Arthur sleeping. The thought of him up there, safe and warm underneath Merlin’s duvet, made Merlin feel so light he could surely float. Mrs Mowberry had just left, stopping at the gate to tell Merlin that Queenie had been found and that a parade of villagers had already gone to drop off baked goods and well wishes at the Miller cottage.

He went into the kitchen to find Arthur placing two cups of steaming tea and a plate stacked with buttered toast onto the table. When Arthur saw him, he came forward, picked up Merlin’s hands, and kissed them each.

He wanted to laugh, but he was too dazed to do so as he watched Arthur turn and take a place at the table. Instead, he sat opposite, and blew on his tea, all the while stealing glances. Arthur seemed very well rested. He kept smiling at nothing in particular, and whenever he caught Merlin looking, he would cast his eyes downwards in an unusually shy expression that Merlin wasn’t used to seeing on Arthur’s face.

‘I thought about it, you know,’ Arthur said when Merlin’s mouth was full of toast.

‘Hm?’

Arthur bit his lip.

‘You. Before, I mean.’

Merlin blinked and swallowed.

‘Me?’

‘Yes,’ he nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

‘Tell me,’ Merlin encouraged. Arthur licked his lips and took a breath.

‘Well um…’ He laughed. ‘There - there was this time…the first time. You woke me up in that usual annoying way of yours and I, you know, sleep-addled, turned round and you were standing over me. Your scarf was all askew and I could see your skin…from then on that scarf was my torment.’

Finally he looked at Merlin. Merlin’s breathing, to his extreme embarrassment, had got sort of ragged. Arthur stood and Merlin clattered to his feet and wrapped his arms tightly round Arthur’s shoulders, pressing their mouths together sloppily. He managed to march Arthur backwards to the stairs and together they clambered up, slipping against the walls in their effort not to be parted from one another.

The bedroom door slammed firmly shut. With nobody to stop her, Bunty jumped up onto the kitchen table and spent the better part of an hour licking at the melting butter and toast crumbs before intently cleaning her paws.

-

Merlin was teaching Arthur how to rig up support stakes for the beans he had planned to grow for some time now when a loud knocking came from the front door.

‘Mrs Lahiri, we’re over here,’ he called, and watched as Mrs Lahiri turned on the doorstep and waved excitedly at them before crossing the garden path to the grass.

‘Merlin you’ll never guess what, oh hello Arthur dear,’ - Arthur bowed most politely - ‘Merlin, Robin Parasell has been arrested.’

‘Has he?’

‘And, Queenie Miller’s been found, well I’m sure you heard about that. _And_ , Mr Parasell, that is, the father, has returned and is absolutely furious with his son. He found out about him bringing in appraisers for the property and, apparently Robin even tried to boot out the Millers from their cottage, can you believe that? Really quite suspicious. But anyway, the old man says on no account will the Millers be leaving, unless they want to of course, and that his son will be struck from his inheritance.’

She was out of breath.

‘Mrs Lahiri, would you like a cup of tea?’

The look of surprise told Merlin that, evidently, his neighbours still thought him a grumpy loner. He would really have to do something about that.

‘No, no, really I’m in a rush. Mr Lahiri wants to go to the seaside tomorrow and I’ve got to pack the car. But you boys should come to dinner tomorrow evening okay?’

‘Oh…actually Mr Bennet invited me to his and I still haven’t taken up his offer. I’d feel rude to-’

‘To accept my invitation first? Easily solved. I’ll invite Mr Bennet too, and his silly son.’

Merlin looked to Arthur, translating for him. Arthur nodded excitedly at Mrs Lahiri: ’Thank you,’ he said.

‘Oh you’re very welcome!’ Mrs Lahiri said, sparkling a little. Then, with the energy of a school girl, she skipped back down the garden path, the wood shavings that perpetually clung to her hair breezing out behind her.

‘Did you hear that?’ Arthur said, grinning. ‘I spoke the English, and Lady Lahiri understood me. You know it’s really not as hard as you make it out to be.’

Merlin giggled. ‘I’ll try not to underestimate you in the future.’ 

Arthur laughed in return and Merlin busied himself with tying bean poles together lest Arthur should see his reddening cheeks.

‘You know,’ he said after a while, careful to keep his eyes on his work. ‘I thought about it too.’

‘Thought about what?’ Arthur said, distractedly.

‘You.’

‘Yeah?’ Arthur was looking at him now.

‘Yeah.’

‘Go on.’

Merlin brushed a hand over his sweaty forehead. ‘I mean. It was pretty constant actually. Still is.’

Arthur ducked his head, the shadow of the trees cloaking his blue eyes as they studied Merlin’s face.

‘Are you blushing?’ he said.

‘Not as much as you are.’

‘Merlin, I don’t blush.’

He leaned forwards, brushed his nose against Arthur’s, then kissed him soundly on the mouth. Before he could draw back, Arthur’s hands weaved into Merlin’s hair. He kissed Merlin’s jaw, then his neck, then his lips.

‘See,’ Merlin gasped when they finally separated. ‘Blushing.’

Arthur lightly kissed his cheek. ‘Okay,’ he allowed.

‘I like it when you blush,’ Merlin said. His eyes widened. He had not meant to say that.

‘Do you now?’

There was something about that tone of Arthur’s that sent shivers down his spine. He could not tear his eyes away from Arthur’s mouth. Swallowing, he nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said faintly. He reached out, smoothing Arthur’s hair back. Arthur’s hands were reaching up inside his t-shirt. This time, when Arthur stood up, he clasped Merlin’s hand and they ran into the house and up the stairs like loons, all the way to Merlin’s bedroom.

‘You are ridiculous,’ Arthur said as he pulled Merlin’s shirt off.

‘I know,’ Merlin said.

-

In the morning, Merlin gathered some flowers from his garden, which Arthur unexpectedly and rather ferociously sneezed at until Merlin held them at a distance, and they headed for the Miller cottage.

Mr Miller let them in and put out a fresh pot of tea and a plate of biscuits before calling up the stairs for Queenie to come down. When she saw them, or rather, when she saw Arthur, she clutched her wild hair and yelled, ‘If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake!’ to which Mr Miller and Merlin laughed at.

‘By the way,’ she said, obviously not one for introductions. ‘I found your sword.’ She pointed to where Excalibur glittered against the bureau. Arthur followed her hand and shot to his feet. He picked it up and twirled it around.

‘Good God,’ said Mr Miller.

‘It looks like one you’d see in a museum, doesn’t it?’ said Queenie.

Merlin watched as Arthur smiled down at it.

‘Asecgan Queenie heo motan hwaet hit.’ _Tell Queenie she may have it_.

‘Arthur.’

Arthur shrugged.

‘I have no need of it. I can teach her to use it, if she likes.’

‘Are…are you sure?’

He felt Queenie’s eyes on them both, flitting between them curiously.

‘Of course,’ said Arthur. ‘That is, unless you want it.’

‘No,’ he said, for he most certainly did not. That sword represented too much suffering for him, too many wrong turns. He looked to Queenie and translated Arthur’s offer.

‘Really?! Oh yes please!’ She glanced at her father. ‘Is that alright, Dad?’

She was very bouncy, though Merlin could see that the days on her own had left a mark. Her brown skin was inky black beneath her eyes, and her fingers jittered nervously.

‘Well…I suppose it’s like having a big dinner knife in the house,’ said Mr Miller, then he held up a hand. ‘As long as you’re careful.’

‘I will be, truly, very, extremely careful.’

When they were settled once more around the coffee table and were sipping at cups of tea, Merlin edged forwards on the sofa and said, ‘Queenie, would it be alright to talk about…well,’ he did not want to scare her. He tried to school his voice so as to sound as unassuming as possible, ‘the things that have been happening to you?’

Slowly, Queenie set her tea cup onto the table.

‘You mean…the weird stuff?’

He snorted.

‘Yeah, the weird stuff. We could start with what you said the other night, about your dreams.’

Queenie’s eyes flickered to Arthur, then back again.

‘You dreamt of Arthur,’ Merlin said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I dreamt of Arthur. He came to me on that first night, when I was so scared. But he was sleeping too, he couldn’t see me. He was sleeping in a mountain.’

She turned her eyes to Arthur.

‘Something told me that you would help me. I don’t know what, really, I just knew that you would. I asked you to wake up. That was the night of the storm. I remember, because the lightening woke me.’

So it had been Queenie, Merlin thought. Queenie had woken Arthur up, Queenie had made the storm. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling: thankful, angry, relieved? Annoyed was more accurate, annoyed that whatever power that made the rules of destiny had ignored his pleas, his desperate begging for Arthur to return, and had decided to listen to this teenaged girl instead. But, he supposed, Queenie had needed them to be there for her, both of them, and Queenie could not control what century she was born in. He was certain now that his power, the sheer amount of it, had now passed to Queenie. He knew too, what this meant - that he would no longer walk the earth forever. If that was Queenie’s lot now, he hoped that somewhere out there, somebody was waiting for her, someone that needed her protection and could protect her right back, and love her just the same.

His heart fluttered and his face heated up.

‘And…and,’ he said, in an effort to not stare at Arthur like a lovestruck fool. ‘The other weird stuff?’

‘Well I can do things. Wait, don’t you think I’m mad?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I can do things too.’ And he reached out: ‘ _Forbearne_ ,’ and a ball of fire floated above the coffee table, just above the biscuits. Well, he was glad he could still do that at least. Queenie jumped in her seat.

‘Holy crap!’ she yelled.

Mr Miller had stood up.

‘Queenie…Queenie love, that’s what you did!’

‘It is, isn’t it Dad?’ she said as a mad grin appeared on her face. Tears glinted in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. ‘I can do that too.’ She slumped back into her chair as if all her tiredness had caught up with her. ‘But um, what was that you said before? That word.’

‘It helps me,’ he said. ‘Sort of channels it into what I want it to do.’

‘It?’

‘Magic.’

She blinked slowly at him.

‘Is this where you say, “You’re a wizard, Queenie”?’

Merlin rolled his eyes, never having had much patience for books and films about magic. Queenie leaned over to him, expectant.

‘I’m a what?’ she said, when he said nothing.

‘Alright,’ he chuckled. ‘The point is, I can help you, if you want. Teach you.’

‘To use it?’

‘Yeah.’

She seemed to go into herself then, turning her eyes to the light coming in through the broken window.

‘I don’t know why,’ she said finally. ‘Why this is happening to _me_.’

‘It’s not a bad thing, Queenie. It’s a - a very good thing. Very good.’

‘What…what’s it even for?’

Merlin stood up and went to the window. He heard her draw near. Together they looked at the flowing fields outside, the trees in the valley, the clouds sailing past the sky.

‘Make things grow, heal people, things, heal life. Help people. I’m a sorcerer, but that power does not belong to me. Magic is all around us, we can use it, but we can’t possess it.’

He thought of Morgana, of the things he could have said to her, of the things they could have learned together. It still hurt. He turned to Queenie.

‘What do you think?’

She sighed, then smiled. ‘Yeah,’ she said. When she smiled, she showed all her teeth.

-

They had left the flowers in Queenie’s fluttering hands, and she had hugged them both tightly, as, it seemed, was her way, before they exchanged goodbyes.

They had some time before they would have to head down to Mr and Mrs Lahiri’s, so they walked at a leisurely pace till they were kicking off their shoes onto the welcome mat of Merlin’s cottage. Arthur sat in the living room and took out one of the books Mrs Mowberry had given him.

‘I want to be able to say at least one whole sentence tonight,’ he said as Merlin plonked himself down beside him, shifting the cushions to get comfortable. He watched as Arthur turned the pages, pointing at words so that Merlin could sound them out and he could repeat them. They got stuck when Arthur could not stop laughing at the word “four” - it sounded fairly similarly to the word _foor_ , one of the old words for a pig, which, for some reason, Arthur thought was hilarious. Merlin watched entranced, his cheeks hurting.

‘You’re lovely,’ he said, and, for goodness sake, would he ever stop blurting stuff out?

He watched in muted misery as Arthur slowly turned to face him, an eyebrow raised.

‘What was that?’

Merlin turned his head and stood up. ‘Nothing,’ he said, making to clear some things he’d left on the bookshelf.

‘I don’t think it was nothing,’ Arthur said, getting up and crowding in behind him. He wrapped his arms firmly around Merlin’s waist. ‘In fact, I think it was something.’

Merlin twisted in his arms.

‘Alright,’ he huffed.

‘What was it you said?’

‘Uhhhh.’

‘No,’ Arthur chuckled. ‘It wasn’t that. I think you said “You’re lovely.” Do you think I’m lovely Merlin?’

He could laugh it off. He could roll his eyes and push Arthur’s arms away. But he didn’t want to do that. All those things he’d kept locked away couldn’t stay that way forever.

‘Yeah. I do.’

Arthur blinked in surprise. ‘I…really?’ he said. ‘I mean, I thought you thought me annoying.’

‘Oh I definitely do. And weird. You’re very weird.’

‘If I’m weird, I don’t know what the word is for you.’

‘I’ll be sure to let you know when they’ve invented one.’

Arthur laughed. ‘Please do.’ Then he peppered kisses all over Merlin’s face till Merlin was laughing too.

Later that night, when they were home from the dinner party and lying undercovers and Arthur was snoring lightly, Merlin opened his mouth to speak. Whatever it was that was trying to get out, he didn’t have the words for. Instead, he pressed his fingertips like wishes against Arthur’s skin. For so long, his happiness had been at the mercy of destiny. It couldn’t be like that anymore. The weight of the future no longer pressed on him. He hoped, he knew, that whatever happened, it would be of his own making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> -  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. In the Gloaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets brain-freeze, Merlin gets red in the face.

The last of the mild summer heat had almost gone. Arthur had been helping Mr Ahad on the farm - he’d come home with a jar of the runner beans he had been helping to pick, his hair full of dandelion seeds. His head was currently in Merlin’s lap so that Merlin could pick them all out.

‘Have you been rolling around in the grass?’ Merlin asked as Bunty weaved through Arthur’s legs like smoke. She found a nice shadowy spot under a canna leaf and settled, her yellow eyes following the trail of dandelion seeds that floated on the wind as Merlin let them go.

‘I don’t know how it happens,’ Arthur said. ‘My hair must be a magnet.’

‘Magnets attract metal, not plant life.’

‘You’re such a know-it-all.’

‘Luckily for you.’

Arthur laughed, squeezing Merlin’s knee.

‘I’ll have you know, there’s things I know that you don’t.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Merlin said, giving Arthur’s hair one final ruffle for luck. ‘Go on, then’

‘I know…’ Arthur trailed off, then laughed. ‘I know it was you that lost Mrs Lahiri’s cake tin at the fete.’

‘Well, obviously _I_ know that. That’s not something I don’t know.’

‘Ah, but you didn’t know _I_ knew it.’

‘Hm. It’s come to my attention that you’re very annoying.’

Arthur sat up. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and plonked a sloppy wet kiss on Merlin’s forehead before getting to his feet. ‘Queenie and Mr Miller will be here soon, I’m going to put the kettle on.’ He leant down and helped Merlin up.

When the Millers arrived, knocking loudly on the door, it was near to teatime. Queenie came bustling in just as Arthur lay a plate of chocolate digestives on the table. While Queenie and Merlin got to work, Arthur and Mr Miller usually went into the living room - Mr Miller, having learned that English was not Arthur’s first language, had taken it upon himself to act as Arthur’s tutor, and had brought some old exercise books from his sisters TEFL course.

‘Come on, Queenie,’ Merlin said. ‘Let’s go to the garden this time.’

He led her to a parched sunflower that had not been growing as well as he would like, and they sat down in the soil.

‘We’re going to try to help it along, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Queenie said, taking a deep breath. She was still nervous to use magic. Slowly, her eyes turned burnished gold and she gasped, reaching out to the sunflower, a hairsbreadth between her fingers and its stem.

‘Oh my,’ Merlin said, as he watched it grow up and up until it stopped at close to fifteen feet.

‘Wow,’ Queenie said. ‘If I did that to a marrow or an aubergine and entered it into a contest, would that be considered bad magical practice?’

Merlin almost didn’t hear her, still blinking at the sunflower. ‘Um…’

‘It looks happy now doesn’t it?’ she asked excitedly. Merlin slipped one of the leaves between his fingers, felt the life there.

‘Yes.’

Surrounded by the soft waves of moving grass, Queenie looked very happy with herself.

‘Really good, Queenie.’

‘Thank you,’ she giggled.

They went over the same magic for a while, getting Queenie to reach out to the elements.

‘I don’t want to ruin it,’ she said. ‘Like, set things on fire and stuff.’

‘Then you won’t,’ he said. ‘The world can hear your good intentions.’

‘That’s…comforting,’ she said. She put the pebble she had been rolling between her fingers back into grass. ’So are you in love with Arthur?’

‘What?’ he chuckled nervously.

‘I’m being very nosy aren’t I?’ she grinned, seemingly proud of herself.

The back door burst open then.

‘Queenie time to go,’ Mr Miller said, taking his cardigan from Arthur who was hurrying after him. ‘It’s forecast rain and I’ve left the washing out!’

‘Dad it’s not even close to raining.’

‘Come on come on, my fleece is on the line.’

‘Alright, bye Merlin, bye Arthur.’

They waved at the Millers until they turned the corner and disappeared.

‘It’s hot,’ Arthur said in English, then, switching back to the old language, he continued. ‘Mr Miller was going through the weather report on his electric machine, that’s when he saw that it would soon rain. Isn’t that amazing, Merlin?’

‘What is?’ Merlin said as they stepped back into the kitchen.

‘That you can find out if it will rain so quickly. Mr Miller said that there are metal contraptions floating around up in the sky that send messages to people on earth.’

‘That’s true.’

Merlin opened the freezer, mind on what they could have for dinner tonight, when he saw the box of cornettos he had bought the day after Arthur had returned.

‘Arthur,’ he said, ripping open the box. ‘Have one of these.’

‘What is it?’ Arthur asked, reaching his hand out. Merlin fetched one for himself too.

‘It’s ice-cream. You’ll like it, trust me.’

He watched, amused, as Arthur removed the packaging and sniffed it.

‘It smells sweet.’

‘It is. Go on.’

So Arthur took a lick and gasped. Merlin wished he could bottle the sound forever. Then Arthur laughed, and he wished he could keep that sound forever too.

‘It’s cold!’

‘It’s been in the freezer.’

‘It’s very good. What is the taste? The pink stuff.’

‘It’s strawberry.’

He had introduced Arthur to a lot of fruit and vegetables that had not grown in Albion during his time. He was particularly fond of potatoes and their many variations. Merlin’s favourite was strawberries. For some inexplicable reason, they had always reminded him of Arthur.

They sat at the table as the sun dipped lower and the clouds grew thicker, and ate their ice-creams.

‘Did you have a good lesson with Mr Miller then?’

Arthur nodded, licking the last of the ice-cream from his lips.

‘Should my head be hurting this much?’

‘That’s what happens when you eat so fast, dollop-head.’

Arthur stuck his tongue out at him.

‘Did you have a good lesson with Queenie?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, did you see the sunflower she grew?’

‘That was a _sunflower_? I thought it was a tree.’

Inordinately proud of his apprentice, Merlin grinned from ear to ear. When his mind began to drift back to what they should have for dinner, Arthur started making faces and coughing noises, the ones he made when he wanted to say something but was embarrassed.

‘What is it?’

Arthur frowned.

‘Nothing.’

‘Arthur.’

‘Well if you must know, I was wondering if you…’ He squinted at the window. Alarm settled in Merlin’s stomach. ‘Well…’ Merlin was very nervous now. ‘If you wouldn’t mind considering us painting the walls in the living room a different colour.’

Merlin was so relieved he almost didn’t understand what Arthur had said.

‘Eh?’

‘That beige-y,’ - Arthur waved a hand in the air - ‘pottage colour is fine really. But I thought we could brighten it up a bit. Maybe yellow?’

‘Oh,’ Merlin laughed faintly. _Get a grip_ , he told himself. He had no idea why he had got so nervous. ‘Yeah, of course. Let’s do that.’

‘Tomorrow? Mrs Lahiri said she had some leftover paint in her shed.’

‘When did you talk to Mrs Lahiri about it?’

Arthur shrugged. ‘I didn’t. Mister Ahad told me that she told him about it.’

‘Alright, tomorrow then.’

‘You’re sure?’

Merlin frowned. Of course he was sure. He was surprised, in fact, that Arthur had even asked. But then he thought about it, and understood. Guilt settled over him.

‘Arthur, you know, this is your house too. If there’s things you want to change, you can.’

Arthur shook his head.

‘I don’t want to be rude about where you live.’

‘But it isn’t rude if…Oh.’ He remembered Gwen and the short time Arthur had stayed in her little house, the well-deserved verbal smackdown he had received from her. ‘It’s not like that Arthur. This is your house too.’

Arthur grinned, giving a quick nod.

‘Okay, then,’ he said. ‘I’ll stop by Mrs Lahiri’s in the morning and get the paint.’

-

Arthur returned the next morning with Mr Lahiri’s cart which had been loaded with paint tins and brushes of various sizes. First, they cleared out everything in the living room and put it in the kitchen. Then, they laid out all the newspapers that Merlin had not bothered to throw out onto the floor and took their shoes off, rolling up their trouser legs. They looked at each other.

‘Is it too early for an ice-cream break?’ Arthur said. Merlin sighed.

‘Thank Heaven you said that because I’m already exhausted.’

They climbed over the stuff in the kitchen and took the remaining ice-creams into the garden. Arthur plonked his feet in Merlin’s lap, grinning soppily.

‘You look really nice today,’ he said.

Merlin snorted. ‘I what?’

‘You do,’ Arthur said, rolling his eyes. ‘I mean you always do. But…you look really sort of beautiful today. It’s very distracting.’

Merlin felt his cheeks grow hot. Arthur laughed, leaning in.

‘Look at you. All red.’

‘Shut up.’

Arthur smiled and shuffled over to kiss Merlin’s cheek, then press their lips together. Merlin opened his mouth and felt Arthur’s eyelashes against his skin. When they parted, Arthur’s eyes were very blue.

‘I love you,’ Merlin said. It just slipped out. Arthur blinked at him. Merlin was mortified.

‘Do you?’ Arthur said, his nose brushing against Merlin’s. Merlin nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath.

‘Yep,’ he said.

‘That’s good, ‘cause I love you too.’

Most mortifying of all were the tears boiling behind his eyes. He knew Arthur could see them, because everything became a salty blur. Arthur leaned in once more, giving him a firm kiss on the mouth, then enclosed him in his arms. Merlin sniffed against his shoulder.

‘Is this what was so embarrassing?’ he heard Arthur say, muffled.

‘What?’ he said, wetly.

‘That day we had that horrible argument and I woke up to you sitting on the floor and saying “But it’s so embarrassing.”’

Merlin nodded.

‘Yeah,’ he whispered.

‘Oh well I’m so flattered Merlin.’

Merlin burst out laughing against his shoulder, felt Arthur laughing too.

After a while, they unfolded themselves and picked their way back into the living room. They stared at the walls.

‘Now,’ Merlin said, voice still a little scratchy. ‘I know I just confessed my love for you, but that does not mean we will be tossing paint at each other in a romantic, soppy display that ruins the carpet and our clothes. Agreed?’

‘Agreed.’

‘Arthur, that sounded shaky at best.’

‘You have my word,’ Arthur said, hand on heart. But Bunty saw that the loud, yellow-haired human had his fingers crossed behind his back and could sense imminent mischief in the air, so she made her escape.

-

After they had picked the paint out of their hair - Merlin had shoved Arthur’s head under the tap in the garden and yelled about lying clot-poles while Arthur laughed hysterically - they cooled off with some herbal tea and watched the sun set.

‘We still have to put all the stuff back in the living room.’

‘Let’s pretend that’s not true,’ Arthur said.

‘It looks nice though, the yellow.’

‘You’re happy with it?’

‘Yeah, very.’

Pride beamed on Arthur’s face.

They were so exhausted after putting the house in order, that when they flopped into bed, it was hardly nine o’clock. Merlin smoothed Arthur’s brow. The gloaming set his skin and hair in a warm glow. In this light, with his eyes closed so gently, he looked like a myth, a sleeping King, gilded in gold.

‘G’night,’ Arthur whispered.

He kissed Arthur on the nose, snickering when Arthur sighed happily.

‘Night,’ he whispered back. ‘Sleep well.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> -  
> -  
> It's finished. It's over. I am bereft. I loved writing this fic so much. I have a lot to learn about writing, but thank you so much for sticking with it and commenting and leaving kudos. I love to hear what you thought of this little fic, it makes my day.


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